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100579 

This  book  may  be  kept  out  TWO  WEEKS 
ONLY,  and  is  subject  to  a  fine  of  FIVE 
CENTS  a  day  thereafter.  It  is  due  on  the 
day  indicated   below: 


I7Apr'50S 
3iVorS|J( 
l7Feb'56Z 

6Sep'58tf 
22Nov'6lO 

APR.  1 T  m  r^ 

JUL2'^19i7 

JAN      i  2008 


RuDYARD  Kipling. 


I  have  eaten  your  bread  and  salt, 
I  have  drunk  your  w^er  and  wine 

The  deaths  ye  died  I  have  watched  beside, 
And  the  lives  that  yye  led  were  mine. 

Was  there  aught  that  I  did  not  share 

In  vigil  or  toil  or  ease, 
One  joy  or  woe  that  I  did  not  know. 

Dear  hearts  across  the  seas? 

I  have  written  the  tale  of  our  life 
For  a  sheltered  people's  mirth, 

In  jesting  guise  but  ye  are  wise, 
And  ye  know  what  the  jest  is  worth. 


100579 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

A  Ballad  of  Burial 41 

A  Code  of  Morals 10 

A  Legend  of  the  Foreign  Office 15 

Army  Headquarters 13 

Delilah 20 

Departmental  Ditties 3 

General  Summary 5 

In  Springtime 49 

La  Nuit  Blanche 35 

Municipal 30 

My  Rival 38 

Pagett,  M.  P 43 

Pink  Dominoes 26 

Possibilities 52 

Public  Waste 18 

Study  of  an  Elevation,  in  Indian  Ink 9 

The  Betrothed 53 

The  Last  Department 32 

The  Lovers'  Litany 40 

The  Man  Who  Could  Write 28 

The  Mare's  Nest 47 

The  Overiand  Mail 50 

The  Post  That  Fitted 7 

The  Rupaiyat  of  Omar  Kal' vin 45 

The  Stf  ry  of  Uriah 17 

To  the  Unknown  Goddess 33 

What  Happened 23 

3 


4  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

The  Incarnation  of  Krishna  Mulvaney 6i 

On  Greenhow  Hill 98 

Bimi •. 125 

Namgay  Doola 134 

Moti  Guj— Mutineer 151 

The  Mutiny  of  the  Mavericks 162 

The  Recrudescence  of  Imray 190 


GENERAL  SUMMARY. 

We  are  very  slightly  changed 
From  the  sem-.-apes  who  ranged 

India's  prehiztoric  clay; 
Whoso  drew  the  longest  bow, 
Ran  his  brother  down,  you  know. 

As  v/e  run  men  down  to-day. 

**Dowb,**  the  first  of  all  his  race 
Met  the  Mammoth  lace  to  face 

On  the  lake  or  in  the  cave, 
Stole  the  steadiest  canoe, 
Ate  the  quarry  others  slew, 

Died — and  took  the  finest  grave. 

When  they  scratch ci  the  reindeer  bone, 
Some  one  made  the  sketch  his  own, 

Filched  it  from  the  artist — then, 
Even  in  those  early  days, 
Won  a  simple  Viceroy's  praise 

Through  the  toil  of  other  men. 

Ere  they  hewed  the  Sphinx's  visage 
Favoritism  governed  kissage, 
Even  as  it  does  in  this  age. 

Who  shall  doubt  the  secret  hid 
Under  Cheops'  pyramid 
Was  that  the  contractor  did 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

Cheops  out  of  several  millions? 
Or  that   Joseph's  sudden  rise 
To  Comptroller  of  Supplies 
Was  a  fraud  of  monstrous  size 

On  king  Pharaoh's  swart  Civilians? 

Thus,  the  artless  songs  I  sing 
Do  not  deal  with  anything 

Nev/  or  never  said  before. 
As  it  was  in  the  beginning, 
Is  to-day  official  sinning, 

And  shall  be  forevermore. 


THE  POST  THAT  FITTED. 

Though  tangled  and  twisted  the'course  of  true  love. 

This  ditty  explains 
No  tangle's  so  tangled  it  cannot  improve 

If  the  Lover  has  brains. 

Ere  the  steamer  bore  him  Eastward,  Sleary 

was  engaged  to  marry 
'An    attractive    girl  at   Tunbridge,   whom  he 

called  '*my  little  Carrie." 
Sleary *s  pay  was  very  modest;  Sleary  was  the 

other  way. 
Who  can  cook  a    two-plate  dinner    on  eight 

paltry  dibs  a  day? 

Long  he  pondered  o'er  the    question  in  his 

scantly  furnished  quarters — 
Then    proposed  to  Minnie    Boffkin,  eldest  of 

Judge  Boffkin 's  daughters. 
Certainly  an  impecunious  Subaltern  was  not  a 

catch, 
But  the  Boffkins  knew   that  Minnie  mightn't 

make  another  match. 

So  they  recognized  the  business,  and  to  feed 
and  clothe  the  bride. 

Got  him  made  a  Something  Something  some- 
where on  the  Bombay  side. 

Anyhow,  the  billet  carried  pay  enough  for  hina 
to  marry — 

7 


e  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

As  the  artless  Sleary  put  it:— **J"st  the  thing 
for  me  and  Carrie." 

Did  he,   therefore,  jilt  Miss  Boffkin — impulse 

of  a  baser  mind? 
No!  he  started  epileptic  fits   of   an  appalling 
^  kind. 

(Of  his  modus  operandi  only  this  much  I  could 

gather: — 
'*Pears,  shaving  sticks  will  give  you  little  taste 

and  lots  of  lather. '  *) 

Frequently  in  public  places  his  affliction  used 

to  smite 
Sleary  with  distressing   vigor — always  in  the 

Boffkins'  sight. 
Ere    a    week    was    over     Minnie     weepingly 

returned  his  ring 
Told  him  his  ** unhappy  weakness"  stopped  all 

thought  of  marrying. 

Sleary  bore  the  information  with  a  chastened 

holy  joy,— 
Epileptic  fits  don't  matter  in  Political  employ, 
Wired  three  short   words  to  Carrie — took  his 

ticket,  packed  his  kit — 
Bade  farewell  to  Minnie    Boffkin  in   one  last 

long,  lingering  fit. 

Four    weeks    later,  Carrie    Sleary  read — and 

laughed  until  she  wept — 
Mrs.  Boffkins'  warning  letter  on  the  ** wretched 

epilept." 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  9 

Year  by  year,  in  pious  patience,  vengeful  Mrs. 

Boffkins  sits 
Waiting-    for    the    Sleary    babies  to    develop 

Sleary's  fits. 


STUDY  OF  AN  ELEVATION  IN  INDIAN 
INK. 

This  ditty  is  a  string  of  lies. 

But — how  the  deuce  did  Gubbins  rise? 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.  E., 
Stands  at  the  top  of  the  tree; 
And  I  muse  in  my  bed  on  the  reasons  that  led 
To  the  hoisting  of  Potiphar  G. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.  E., 
Is  seven  years  junior  to  Me; 
Each  bridge   that  he  makes  he  either  buckles 
or  breaks, 

And  his  work  is  as  rough  as  he. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.  E., 
Is  coarse  as  a  chimpanzee ; 
And  I  can't  understand   why  you  gave  him 
your  hand. 

Lovely  Mehitable  Lee. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.  E., 
Is  dear  to  the  Powers  that  Be; 
For  They  bow  and  they  smile  in  an  affable 
style 
Which  is  seldom  accorded  to  Me. 


10  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.  E. , 
Is  certain  as  certain  can  be 
Of  a  highly  paid   post   which  is  claimed  by  a 
host 

Of  seniors — including  Me. 

Careless  and  lazy  is  he, 
Greatly  inferior  to  Me. 
What  is  the  spell  that  you  manage  so  well, 
Commonplace  Potiphar  G.  ? 

Lovely  Mehitable  Lee, 
Let  me  inquire  of  thee, 
Should  I  have  riz  to  what  Potiphar  is, 
Hadst  thou  been  mated  to  Me? 


A  CODE  OF  MORALS. 

Lest  you  should  think  this  story  true, 
I  merely  mention  I 
Evolved  it  lately.     'Tis  a  most 
Unmitigated  misstatement. 

Now  Jones  had  left  his  new-wed  bride  to  keep 

his  house  in  order, 
And  hied  away  to  the  Hurrum  Hills  above  the 

Afghan  border, 
To  sit  on  a  rock  with  a  heliograph ;  but  ere  he 

left  he  taught 
His  wife  the  wording  of  the  Code  that  sets  the 

miles  at  naught. 

And  love  had  made  him  very  sage,  as  Nature 
made  her  fair; 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  11 

So  Cupid  and  Apollo  linked,  per  heliograph, 

the  pair, 
At  dawn,  across  the  Hurrum    Hills  he  flashed 

her  counsel  wise — 
At  e'en,  the  dying  sunset  bore  her  husband's 

homilies. 

He   warned   her  'gainst  seductive  youths  in 

scarlet  clad  and  gold, 
As  much  as  'gainst  the  blandishments  paternal 

of  the  old  ; 
But  kept  his  gravest  warnings  for  (hereby  the 

ditty  hangs) 
That  snowy-haired  Lothario,  Lieutenant-Gen- 

eral  Bangs. 

'Twas  General   Bangs,  with  Aide  and  Staff, 

that  tittupped  on  the  way,  . 

When  they  beheld  a  heliograph  tempestuously 

at  play ; 
They  thought  of  Border  risings,  and  of  stations 

sacked  and  burnt — 
So  stopped  to  take  the  message  down — and  this 

is  what  they  learnt: — 

*' Dash  dot  dot,  dot,  dot   dash,  dot   dash   dot" 

twice.     The  General  swore. 
*'Was  ever  General  Officer  addressed  as  *dear' 

before? 
*My  love,' i' faith!  'My  Duck,' Gadzooks!  'My 

darling  popsy-wop!' 
Spirit  of  great  Lord  Wolseley,  who  is  on  that 

mountain  top?" 


12  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

The  artless  Aide-de-camp  was  mute ;  the  gilded 

Staff  were  still, 
As,   dumb  with  pent-up  mirth,    they  booked 

that  message  from  the  hill ; 
For,   clear  as   summer's   lightning   flare,  the 

husband's  warning  ran: — 
*' Don't  dance  or  ride  with  General  Bangs — a 

most  immoral  man. '  * 

(At  dawn,  across  the  Hurrum  Hills,  he  flashed 
her  counsel  wise — 

But  howsoever  Love  be  blind,  the  world  at 
large  hath  eyes.) 

With  damnatory  dot  and  dash  he  heliographed 
his  wife 

Some  interesting  details  of  the  General's  pri- 
vate life. 

The  artless  Aide-de-camp  was  mute ;  the  shin- 
ing Staff  was  still, 

And  red  and  ever  redder  grew  the  General's 
shaven  gill. 

And  this  is  what  he  said  at  last  (his  feelings 
matter  not) : — 

*'I  think  we've  tapped  a  private  line.  Hi! 
Threes  about  there !    Trot ! ' ' 

All  honor  unto   Bangs,    for  ne'er  did  Jones 

thereafter  know 
By  word  or  act  official  who  read  off  that  helio. ; 
But   the   tale  is  on   the   Frontier,   and  from 

Michni  to  Mooltan 
They  knew  the  worthy  General  as  "that  most 

immoral  man." 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  13 


ARMY  HEADQUARTERS. 

Old  is  the  song  that  I  sing — 

Old  as  my  unpaid  bills — 
Old  as  the  hicken  that  kitmutgars  bring 

Men  at  dak-bungalows,  .old  as  the  Hills. 

Ahasuerus  Jenkins  of  the  ''Operatic  Own" 
Was   dowered   with   a    tenor   voice  of   super- 

Santley  tone. 
His  views  on  equitation  were,  perhaps,  a  trifle 

queer; 
He  had  no  seat  worth  mentioning,  but  oh !  he 

had  an  ear. 

He  clubbed  his  wretched  company  a  dozen 
times  a  day, 

He  used  to  quit  his  charger  in  a  parabolic  way. 

His  method  of  saluting  was  the  joy  of  all  be- 
holders. 

But  Ahasuerus  Jenkins  had  a  head  upon  his 
shoulders. 

He  took  two  months  to  Simla  when  the  year 

was  at  the  spring, 
And  underneath  the  deodars  eternally  did  sing. 
He  warbled  like  a  bulbiil,  but  particularly  at 
Cornelia  Agrippina,  who  was  musical  and  fat. 

She  controlled  a  humble  husband,  who  in  turn 

controlled  a  Dept. 
Where   Cornelia  Agrippina' s  human   singing 

birds  were  kept 


14  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

From  April  to  October  on  a  plump  retaining 

fee, 
Supplied,  of  course,  per  mensem^  by  the  Indian 

Treasury. 

Cornelia  used  to  sing  with  him,  and  Jenkins 
used  to  play; 

He  praised  unblushingly  her  notes,  for  he  was 
false  as  they : 

So  when  the  winds  of  April  turned  the  bud- 
ding- roses  brown, 

Cornelia  told  her  husband: — ''Tom,you  mustn't 
send  him  down." 

They  haled   him   from   his  regiment,    which 

didn't  much  regret  him; 
They  found  for  him  an  office  stool,  and  on  that 

stool  they  set  him, 
To  play  with  maps  and  catalogues  three  idle 

hours  a  day. 
And    draw  his    plump    retaining  fee — which 

means  his  double  pay. 

Now,  ever  after  dinner,  when  the  coffee  cups 

are  brought, 
Ahasuerus  waileth  o'er  the  grand  pianoforte ; 
And,   thanks  to  fair  Cornelia,  his  fame  hath 

waxen  great. 
And  Ahasuerus  Jenkins    is    a  power  in  the 

State. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  15 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  FOREIGN  OFFICE. 

This  is  the  reason  why  Rustum  Beg, 

Rajah  of  Kolazai, 
Drinketh  the  "simpkin"  and  brandy  peg, 

Maketh  the  money  to  fly, 
Vexeth  a  Government  tender  and  kind, 
Also — but  this  is  a  detail — blind. 

Rustum    Beg  of    Kolazai — slightly  backward 

native  state — 
Lusted  for  a  C.  S.  I., — so  began  to  sanitate. 
Built  a  Jail  and  Hospital — nearly  built  a  City 

drain — 
Till  his  faithful  subjects  all  thought  their  ruler 

was  insane. 

Strange  departures  made  he  then — yea,  Depart- 
ments stranger  still, 

Half  a  dozen  Englishmen  helped  the  Rajah 
with  a  will, 

Talked  of  noble  aims  and  high,  hinted  of  a 
future  fine 

For  the  State  of  Kolazai,  on  a  strictly  Western 
line. 

Rajah  Rustum  held  his  peace;  lowered  octroi 

dues  a  half; 
Organized  a  State  Police;  purified  the  Civil 

Staff; 
Settled  cess  and  tax  afresh  in  a  very  liberal 

way; 
Cut  temptations  of  the    flesh — also    cut  the 

Bukhshi's  pay; 


16  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

Roused  his  Secretariat  to  a  fine  Mahratta  fury, 
By  a  Hookum  hinted  at  supervision  of  dasturi; 
Turned  the  State  of  Kolazai  very  nearly  upside 

down; 
When   the  end  of   May  was  nigh,  waited  his 

achievement  crown. 
Then  the  Birthday  Honors  came.     Sad  to  state 

and  sad  to  see, 
Stood  against  the  Rajah's  name  nothing  more 

than  C.   I.  E. ! 


Things  were  lively  for  a  week  in  the  State  of 
Kolazai. 

Even  now  the  people  speak  of  that  time  regret- 
fully. 

How  he  disendowed  the  Jail — stopped  at  once 

the  City  drain ; 
Turned  to  beauty  fair  and  frail — got  his  senses 

back  again; 
Doubled  taxes,  cesses,  all ;  cleared  away  each 

new-built  thana; 
Turned  the  two-lakh  Hospital  into  a  superb 

Zenana : 
Heaped  upon  the  Bukhshi  Sahib  wealth  and 

honors  manifold ; 
Clad  himself  in  Eastern  garb — squeezed  his 

people  as  of  old. 
Happy,  happy  Kolazai!    Never  more  will  Rus- 

tum  Beg 
Play  to  catch  the  Viceroy's  eye.     He  prefers 

the  **simpkin"  peg. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  17 


THE  STORY  OF  URIAH.  ; 

•'Now  there  were  two  men  in  one  city;  the  one  rich 
and  the  other  poor, "  ■ 

Jack  Barrett  went  to  Ouetta  ': 

Because  they  told  him  to.  1 

He  left  his  wife  at  Simla  -1 

On  three-fourths  his  monthly  screw:  ; 

Jack  Barrett  died  at  Quetta  i 

Ere  the  next  month's  pay  he  drew.  ] 

Jack  Barrett  went  to  Quetta.  i 

He  didn't  understand  j 

The  reason  of  his  transfer  ■ 

From  the  pleasant  mountain-land:  ■ 

The  season  was  September,  \ 
And  it  killed  him  out  of  hand. 

Jack  Barrett  went  to  Quetta,  i 

And  there  gave  up  the  .Cfhost,  j 

Attempting  two  men's  duty  ^ 

In  that  very  healthy  post;  | 

And  Mrs.  Barrett  mourned  for  him  ^ 

Five  lively  months  at  most.  '■ 

Jack  Barrett's  bones  at  Quetta 

Enjoy  profound  repose; 
But  I  shouldn't  be  astonished 

If  now  his  spirit  knows 
The  reason  of  his  transfer 

From  the  Himalayan  snows. 

And,  when  the  Last  Great  Bugle  Call 
Adown  the  Hurnai  throbs, 
a  Ditties 


18  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIE^ 

When  the  last  grim  joke  is  entered 
In  the  big  black  Book  of  Jobs, 

And  Quetta  graveyards  give  again 
Their  victims  to  the  air, 

I  shouldn't  like  to  be  the  man 
Who  sent  Jack  Barrett  there. 


PUBLIC  WASTE. 

Walpole  talks  of  "a.  man  and  his  price.** 
List  to  a  ditty  queer — 

The  sale  of  a  Deputy- Acting- Vice- 
Resident-Engineer, 

Bought  like  a  bullock,  hoof  and  hide, 

By  the  Little  Tin  Gods  on  the  Mountain  Side. 

By  the  Laws  of  the  Family  Circle  'tis  written 
in  letters  of  brass 

That  only  a  Colonel  from  Chatham  can  manage 
the  Railways  of  State, 

Because  of  the  gold  on  his  breeks,  and  the  sub- 
jects wherein  he  must  pass; 

Because  in  all  matters  that  deal  not  with  Rail- 
ways his  knowledge  is  great. 

Now  Exeter  Battleby  Tring  had  labored  from 
boyhood  to  eld 

On  the  Lines  of  the  East  and  the  West,  and 
eke  of  the  North  and  South ; 

Many  lines  had  he  built  and  surveyed — impor- 
tant the  posts  which  he  held ; 

And  the  Lords  of  the  Iron  Horse  were  dumb 
when  he  opened  his  mouth. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  19 

Black  as  the  raven  his  garb,  and  his  heresies 

jettier  still — 
Hinting  that   Railways  required  lifetimes  of 

study  and  knowledge ; 
Never  clanked  sword  by  his  side— 

Vauban  he  knew  not,  nor  drill 

Nor  was  his  name  on  the  list  of  the  men  who 

had  passed  through  the  "College." 

Wherefore  the   Little  Tin  Gods  harried  their 

little  tin  souls, 
Seeing  he  came  not  from  Chatham,  jingled  no 

spurs  at  his  heels, 
Knowing  that,  nevertheless,  was  he  first  on  the 

Government  rolls 
For  the  billet  of  "Railway  Instructor  to  Little 

Tin  Gods  on  Wheels." 

Letters  not  seldom   they  wrote  him,  "having 

the  honor  to  state," 
It  would  be  better  for  all  men  if  he  were  laid 

on  the  shelf: 
Much  would  accrue  to  his  bank  book,  and  he 

consented  to  wait 
Until  the  Little  Tin  Gods  built  him  a  berth  for 

himself. 

"Special,  well  paid,  and  exempt  from  the  Law 

of  the  Fifty  and  Five, 
Even  to  Ninety  and  Nine'''— these  were  the 

terms  of  the  pact: 
Thus  did  the  Little  Tin  Gods  (long  may  Their 

Highnesses  thrive!) 
Silence  his  mouth  with  rupees,  keepine  their 

Circle  intact ; 


20  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

Appointing    a    Colonel   from    Chatham    who 

managed  the  Bhamo  State  Line, 
(The  which  was  one  mile  and  one  furlong — a 

guaranteed  twenty-inch  gauge). 
So  Exeter  Battleby  Tring  consented  his  claims 

to  resign, 
And  died,  on   four  thousand  a  month,  in  the 

ninetieth  year  of  his  age. 


DELILAH. 

We  have  another  Viceroy  now,  those  days  are  dead  and 

done, 
Of  Delilah  Aberyswith  and  depraved  Ulysses  Gunne. 

Delilah     Aberyswith     was    a     lady — not    too 

young — 
With   a  perfect  taste  in   dresses,  and  a  badly 

bitted  tongue. 
With   a  thirst   for  information,   and  a  greater 

thirst  for  praise, 
And  a  little  house  in  Simla,  in  the  Prehistoric 

Days. 

By  reason  of  her  marriage  to  a  gentleman  in 

power, 
Delilah  was  acquainted  with  the  gossip  of  the 

hour; 
And  many  little  secrets,  of  a  half-official  kind, 
Were  whispered  to  Delilah,  and  she  bore  them 

all  in  mind. 

She    patronized   extensively   a   man,    Ulysses 
Gunne, 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  21 

Whose  mode  of  earning  money  was  a  low  and 
shameful  one. 

He  wrote  for  divers  papers,  which,  as  every- 
body knows. 

Is  worse  than  serving  in  a  shop  or  scaring  off 
the  crows. 

He  praised  her  "queenly  beauty"  first;  and, 
later  on,  he  hinted 

At  the  "vastness  of  her  intellect"  with  compli- 
ments unstinted. 

He  went  with  her  a-riding,  and  his  love  for  her 
was  such 

That  he  lent  her  all  his  horses,  and — she  galled 
them  very  much. 

One  day.  They  brewed  a  secret  of  a  fine  fin- 
ancial sort; 

It  related  to  Appointments,  to  a  Man  and  a 
Report. 

'Twas  almost  worth  the  keeping  (only  seven 
people  knew  it), 

And  Gunne  rose  up  to  seek  the  truth  and 
patiently  ensue  it. 

It  was  a  Viceroy's  Secret,  but — perhaps  the 
wine  was  red — 

Perhaps  an  aged  Councilor  had  lost  his  aged 
head — 

Perhaps  Delilah's  eyes  were  bright— Delilah's 
whispers  sweet — ■ 

The  Aged  Member  told  her  what  'twere  trea- 
son to  repeat. 


22  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

Ulysses  went  a-riding,  and  they  talked  of  love 
and  flowers; 

Ulysses  went  a-calling,  and  he  called  for  sev- 
eral hours; 

Ulysses  went  a-waltzing,  and  Delilah  helped 
him  dance — 

Ulysses  let  the  waltzes  go,  and  waited  for  his 
chance. 

The  summer  sun  was  setting,  and  the  summer 

air  was  still, 
The   couple   went   a-walking  in  the  shade  of 

Summer  Hill, 
The  wasteful  sunset  faded  out  in  turkis-green 

and  gold, 
Ulysses    pleaded     softly     and  .   .  .   that    bad 

Delilah  told! 

Next  morn  a  startled  Empire  learnt  the  all- 
important  news; 

Next  week  the  Aged  Councilor  was  shaking 
in  his  shoes; 

Next  month  I  met  Delilah,  and  she  did  not 
show  the  least 

Hesitation  in  affirming  that  Ulysses  was  a 
•*  beast." 


We  have  another  Viceroy  now,  those  days  are 

dead  and  done, 
Of  Delilah  Aberyswith  and  most  mean  Ulysses 

Gunne! 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  23 


WHAT  HAPPENED. 

Hurree    Chunder    Mookerjee,     pride   of   Bow 

Bazar, 
Owner  of  a  native  press,  "Barrishter-at-Lar," 
Waited  on  the   Government  with  a  claim  to 

wear 
Sabres  by  the  bucketful,  rifles  by  the  pair. 

Then  the  Indian  Government  winked  a  wicked 

wink, 
Said  to    Chunder  Mookerjee:    ** Stick  to  pen 

and  ink. 
They  are  safer  implements ;  but,  if  you  insist, 
We  will  let  you  carry   arms   wheresoe'er  you 

list." 

Hurree  Chunder  Mookerjee  sought  the  gun- 
smith and 

Bought  the  tuber  of  Lancaster,  Ballard,  Dean 
and  Bland, 

Bought  a  shiny  bowie-knife,  bought  a  town- 
made  sword, 

Jingled  like  a  carriage  horse  when  he  went 
abroad. 

But  the   Indian  Government,   always  keen  to 

please. 
Also  gave  permission  to  horrid  men  like  these — 
Yar  Mahommed     Yusufzai,    down  to   kill   of 

steal, 
Chimbu  Singh  from  Bikaneer,  Tantia  the  Bhil. 


24  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

Killar  Khan  the  Marri  chief,  Jowar  Singh  the 

Sikh, 
Nubbee  Baksh  Punjabi  Jat,  Abdul  Huq  Rafiq — 
He  was  a  Wahabi;  last,  little  Boh  Hla-oo 
Took  advantage  of  the  act — took  a  Snider  too. 

They  were  unenlightened  men,   Ballard  knew 

them  not, 
They  procured  their  swords  and  guns  chiefly  on 

the  spot. 
And   the   lore   of  centuries,    plus  a   hundred 

fights, 
Made  them  slow  to  disregard  one  another's 

rights. 

With  a  unanimity  dear  to  patriot  hearts 

All  those  hairy  gentlemen  out  of  foreign  parts 

Said:  "The  good  old  days  are  back — let  us  go 

to  war!" 
Swaggered  down  the  Grand  Trunk  Road,  into 

Bow  Bazar. 

Nubbee  Baksh  Punjabi  Jat  found  a  hide-bound 

flail, 
Chimbu   Singh  from   Bikaneer  oiled  his  Tonk 

jezail, 
Yar   Mahommed   Yusufzai   spat   and  grinned 

with  glee 
As  he  ground  the  butcher-knife  of  the  Khy- 

beree. 

Jowar  Singh  the  Sikh  procured  sabre,  quoit, 

and  mace, 
Abdul  Huq,  Wahabi,  took  the  dagger  from  its 

place, 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  25 

While    amid    the    jungle-grass    danced    and 

grinned  and  jabbered 
Little  Boh    Hla-oo  and  cleared  the  dahblade 

from  the  scabbard. 

"What  became  of  Mookerjee?    Soothly,  who  can 

say? 
Yar  Mahommed  only  grins  in  a  nasty  way, 
Jowar  Singh  is  reticent,  Chimbu  Singh  is  mute, 
But  the  belts  of  them  all  simply  bulge  with 

loot. 

What  became  of  Ballard's  guns?  Afghans  black 

and  grubby 
Sell  them  for  their  silver  weight  to  the  men  of 

Pubbi; 
And  the  shiny  bowie-knife  and  the  town-made 

sword  are 
Hanging   in    a    Marri   camp   just   across    the 

Border. 

What  became  of    Mookerjee?    Ask  Mahommed 

Yar 
Prodding   Siva's   sacred   bull   down  the  Bow 

Bazar. 
Speak  to  placid  Nubbee  Baksh — question  land 

and  sea — 
Ask  the  Indian  Congressmen — only  don't  ask 

me! 


O.   H.   HILL   LIBRARY 


26  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 


PINK  DOMINOES. 

"They  are  fools  who  kiss  and  tell," 
Wisely  has  the  poet  sung. 
Man  may  hold  all  sorts  of  posts 
If  he'll  only  hold  his  tongue. 

jenny  and  Me  were  engaged,  you  see, 
One  of  the  eve  of  the  Fancy  Ball; 

So  a  kiss  or  two  was  nothing  to  you 
Or  any  one  else  at  all. 

Jenny  would  go  in  a  domino — 

Pretty  and  pink  but  warm ; 
While  I  attended,  clad  in  a  splendid 

Austrian  uniform. 

Now   we  had  arranged,  through  notes  ex- 
changed 

Early  that  afternoon. 
At  Number  Four  to  waltz  no  more, 

But  to  sit  in  the  dusk  and  spoon. 

(I  wish  you  to  see  that  Jenny  and  Me 
Had  barely  exchanged  our  troth ; 

So  a  kiss  or  two  was  strictly  due 
By,  from,  and  between  us  both.) 

When  Three  was  over,  an  eager  lover, 

I  fled  to  the  gloom  outside ; 
And  a  Domino  came  out  also 

Whom  I  took  for  my  future  bride. 


That  is  to  say,  in  a  casual  way, 
I  slipped  my  arm  around  her; 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  27 

With  a  kiss  or  two  (which  is  nothing  to  you), 
And  ready  to  kiss  I  found  her. 

She  turned  her  head  and  the  name  she  said 

Was  certainly  not  my  own ; 
But  ere   I   could  speak,   with  a   smothered 
shriek 

She  fled  and  left  me  alone. 

Then  Jenny  came,  and  I  saw  with  shame 

She'd  doffed  her  domino; 
And  I  had  embraced  an  alien  waist — 

But  I  did  not  tell  her  so. 

Next  morn  I  knew  that  there  were  two 

Dominoes  pink,  and  one 
Had  cloaked  the  spouse  of  Sir  Julian  Vouse, 

Our  big  political  gun. 

Sir  J.  was  old,  and  her  hair  was  gold, 
And  her  eye  was  a  blue  cerulean ; 

And  the  name  she  said  when  she  turned  her 
head 
Was  not  in  the  least  like  * 'Julian." 

Now  wasn't  it  nice,  when  want  of  pice 

Forbade  us  twain  to  marry, 
That  old  Sir  J. ,  in  the  kindest  way, 

Made  me  his  Secretarry? 


28  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULD  WRITE. 

Shun— shun  the  Bowl !     That  fatal,  facile  drink 

Has  ruined  many  geese  who  dipped  their  quills  in't: 

Bribe,  murder,  marry,  but  steer  clear  of  Ink 

Save  when  you  write  receipts  for  paid-up  bills  in't. 

There  may  be  silver  in  the  "blue-black" — all 

I  know  of  is  the  iron  and  the  gall. 

Boanerges  Blitzen,  servant  of  the  Queen, 
Is  a  dismal  failure — is  a  Might-have-been. 
In  a  luckless  moment  he  discovered  men 
Rise  to  high  position  through  a  ready  pen. 

Boanerges  Blitzen  argued,  therefore:  ''I 
With  the  selfsame  weapon  can  attain  as  high.** 
Only  he  did  not  possess,   when  he  made  the 

trial, 
Wicked  wit  of  C-lv-n,  irony  of  L 1. 

(Men  who  spar  with  Government,  need  to  back 

their  blows. 
Something    more    than   ordinary  journalistic 

prose.) 

Never  young    Civilian's    prospects    were   so 

bright. 
Till  an  Indian  paper  found  that  he  could  write: 
Never  young  Civilian's  prospects  were  so  dark, 
When  the  wretched  Blitzen  wrote  to  make  his 

mark. 

Certainly  he  scored  it,   bold  and  black   and 
firm, 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  29 

In  that  Indian  paper— made  his  seniors  squirm, 
Quoted  office  scandals,  wrote  the  tactless  truth- 
Was  there  ever  known  a  more  misguided  youth? 

When  the  rag  he  wrote  for,  praised  his  plucky 

game, 
Boanerges  Blitzen  felt  that  this  was  Fame: 
When  the  men  he  wrote  of,  shook  their  heads 

and  swore, 
Boanerges  Blitzen  only  wrote  the  more. 

Posed  as  Young  Ithuriel,  resolute  and  grim, 
Till  he  found  promotion  didn't  come  to  him; 
Till  he   found  that   reprimands  weekly  were 

his  lot. 
And  his  many  Districts  curiously  hot. 

Till  he  found  his  furlough   strangely  hard  to 

win, 
Boanerges  Blitzen  didn't  care  a  pin: 
Then  it   seemed  to  dawn  on  him  something 

wasn't  right — 
Boanerges  Blitzen  put  it  down  to  "spite." 

Languished  in  a  District  desolate  and  dry; 
Watched   the   Local   Government  yearly  pass 

him  by; 
Wondered  where  the  hitch  was;  called  it  most 

unfair. 

That  was  seven  years  ago — and  he  still  is  there 


30  DEPARTMEiNTAL  DITTIES. 


MUNICIPAL. 

"Why  is  my  District  death-rate  low?" 

Said  Blinks  of  Hezebad. 
"Wells,  drains,  and  sewage-outfalls  are 

My  own  peculiar  fad. 
I  learned  a  lesson  once.     It  ran 
Thus,"  quote  that  most  veracious  man: — 

It  was  an  August  evening,  and,  in  snowy  gar- 
ments clad, 

I  paid  a  round  of  visits  in  the  lines  of  Hezebad ; 

When,  presently,  my  Waler  saw,  and  did  not 
like  at  all, 

A  Commissariat  elephant  careering  down  the 
Mall. 

I  couldn't  see  the  driver,  and  across  my  mind 

it  rushed 
That  the  Commissariat  elephant  has  suddenly 

gone  musth. 
I  didn't  care  to  meet  him,  and  I  couldn't  well 

get  down, 
So  I  let  the  Waler  have  it,  and  we  headed  for 

the  town. 

The  buggy  was  a  new  one,  and,  praise  Dykes, 
it  stood  the  strain. 

Till  the  Waler  jumped  a  bullock  just  above  the 
City  Drain ; 

And  the  next  that  I  remember  was  a  hurricane 
of  squeals, 

And  the  creature  making  toothpicks  of  my  five- 
foot  patent  wheels. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  31 

He  seemed  to  want  the  owner,  so  I  fled,  dis- 
traught with  fear, 

To  the  Main  Drain  sewage-outfall  while  he 
snorted  in  my  ear — 

Reached  the  four-foot  drain-head  safely,  and, 
in  darkness  and  despair. 

Felt  the  brute's  proboscis  fingering  my  terror- 
stiffened  hair. 

Heard  it  trumpet  on  my  shoulder — tried  to 
crawl  a  little  higher — 

Found  the  Main  Drain  sewage-outfall  blocked, 
some  eight  feet  up,  with  mire; 

And,  for  twenty  reeking  minutes.  Sir,  my  very 
marrow  froze, 

While  the  trunk  was  feeling  blindly  for  a  pur- 
chase on  my  toes ! 

It  missed  me  by  a  fraction,  but  my  hair  was 

turning  gray 
Before  they  called  the  drivers  up  and  dragged 

the  brute  away. 
Then  I  sought  the  City  Elders,  and  my  words 

were  very  plain. 
They  flushed  that  four-foot  drain-head,  and — it 

never  choked  again. 

You  may  hold  with  surface-drainage,  and  the 

sun-for-garbage  cure. 
Till  you've  been  a  periwinkle  shrinking  coyly 

up  a  sewer. 
I  believe  in  well-flushed  culverts  .  .  . 

This  is  why  the  death-rate's  small; 
And,  if  you  don't  believe  me,  get  shikarred 

yourself.     That's  all. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 


THE  LAST  DEPARTMENT. 

Twelve  hundred  million  men  are  spread 

About  this  Earth,  and  I  and  You' 
Wonder,  when  You  and  I  aie  dead, 

What  will  those  luckless  millions  do. 

*'None  whole  or  clean,"  we  cry,  *'or  free  from 

stain 
Of  favor."  Wait  awhile,  till  we  attain 

The  Last  Department,  where  nor  fraud  nor 

fools, 
Nor  grade  nor  greed,  shall  trouble  us  again. 

Fear,  Favor,  or  Affection — what  are  these 
To  the  grim   Head  who  claims  our  services? 

I  never  knew  a  wife  or  interest  5^et 
Delay  that  pukka  step,  miscalled  "decease;" 

When  leave,  long  over-due,  none  can  deny; 
When  idleness  of  all  Eternity 

Becomes  our  furlough,  and  the  marigold 
Our  thriftless,  bullion-minting  Treasury. 

Transferred  to  the  Eternal  Settlement 
Each  in  his  strait,  wood-scantled  office  pent, 

No  longer  Brown  reverses  Smith's  appeals, 
Or  Jones  records  his  Minute  of  Dissent. 

And  One,  long  since  a  pillar  of  the  Court, 
As  mud  between  the  beams  thereof  is  wrought ; 
And  One  who  wrote  on  phosphates  for  the 
crops 
Is  subject-matter  of  his  own  Report. 


"Wop!  wop!  wop!  went  a  volley  of  musketry." — Page  10. 

Departmental  Ditties. 


DEPARTIVIENTAL  DITTIES.  3J 

(These  be  the  glorious  ends  whereto  we  pass- 
Let  Him  who  Is,  go  call  on  Him  who  Was; 

And  He  shall  see  the  7nallie  steals  the  slab 
For  currie-grinder,  and  for  goats  the  grass.) 

A  breath  of  wind,  a  Border  bullet's  flight, 
A  draught  of  water,  or  a  horse's  fright—  * 

The  droning  of  the  fat  Sheristadar 
Ceases,  the  punkah  stops,  and  falls  the  night. 

For  you  or  Me.    Do  those  who  live  decline 
The  step  that  offers,  or  their  work  resign? 
Trust  me.  To-day's  Most  Indispensables, 
Five  hundred  men  can  take  your  place  or  mine. 


TO  THE  UNKNOWN  GODDESS. 

Will  you  conquer  my  heart  with  your  beauty; 

my  soul  going  out  from  afar? 
Shall  I  fall  to  your  hand  as  a  victim  of  crafty 

and  cautious  shikar? 

Have  I  met  you  and  passed  you  already,  un- 
knowing,  unthinking,   and  blind? 

Shall  I  meet  you  next  session  at  Simla,  O 
sweetest  and  best  of  your  kind?* 

Does  the  P.   and  O.  bear  you  to  me-ward,  or 
clad  in  short  frocks  in  the  West,       '      * 

Are  you  growing  the  charms  that  shall' capture 
and  torture  the  heart  in  my  breast? 
•  Ditties 


34  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

Will  you  stay  in  the  Plains  till  September— my 

passion  as  warm  as  the  day? 
Will  you  bring  me  to  book  on  the  Mountains, 

or  where  the  thermantidotes  play? 

When  the  light  of  your  eyes  shall  make  pallid 
the  mean  lesser  lights  I  pursue, 

And  the  charm  of  your  presence  shall  lure  me 
from  love  of  the  gay  "thirteen-two;" 

When  the  peg  and  the  pigskin  shall  please  not; 
when  I  buy  me  Calcutta-built  clothes; 

When  I  quit  the  Delight  of  Wild  Asses;  for- 
swearing the  swearing  of  oaths; 

As  a  deer  to  the  hand  of  the  hunter  when  I 
turn  'mid  the  gibes  of  my  friends; 

When  the  days  of  my  freedom  are  numbered, 
and  the  life  of  the  bachelor  ends. 

Ah  Goddess!  child,  spinster,  or  widow — as  of 
old  on  Mars  Hill  when  they  raised 

To  the  God  that  they  knew  not  an  altar — so  I, 
a  young  Pagan,  have  praised 

The  Goddess  I  know  not  nor  worship;  yet  if 
half  that  men  tell  me  be  true, 

You  will  come  in  the  future,  and  therefore 
these  verses  are  written  to  you. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  35 


LA  NUIT  BLANCHE. 

A  much-discerning  Public  hold 
The  Singer  generally  sings 
Of  personal  and  private  things, 

And  prints  and  sells  his  past  for  gold. 

Whatever  I  may  here  disclaim, 
The  very  clever  folk  I  sing  to 
Will  most  indubitably  cling  to 

Their  pet  delusion,  just  the  same. 

I  had  seen,  as  dawn  was  breaking 

And  I  staggered  to  my  rest, 
Tari  Devi  softly  shaking 

From  the  Cart  Road  to  the  crest. 
I  had  seen  the  spurs  of  Jakko 

Heave  and  quiver,  swell  and  sink. 
Was  it  Earthquake  or  tobacco, 

Day  of  Doom  or  Night  of  Drink? 

In  the  full,  fresh,  fragrant  morning 

I  observed  a  camel  crawl. 
Laws  of  gravitation  scorning. 

On  the  ceiling  and  the  wall ; 
Then  I  watched  a  fender  walking, 

And  I  heard  gray  leeches  sing, 
And  a  red-hot  monkey  talking 

Did  not  seem  the  proper  thing. 

Then  a  Creature,  skinned  and  crimson, 
Ran  about  the  floor  and  cried. 

And  they  said  I  had  the  "jims"  on, 
And  they  dosed  me  with  bromide, 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

And  they  locked  me  in  my  bedroom — 
Me  and  one  wee  Blood  Red  Mouse — 

Though  I  said:  "To  give  my  head  room 
You  had  best  unroof  the  house." 

But  my  words  were  all  unheeded, 

Though  I  told  the  grave  M.  D. 
That  the  treatment  really  needed 

Was  a  dip  in  open  sea 
That  was  lapping  just  below  me, 

Smooth  as  silver,  white  as  snow. 
And  it  took  three  men  to  throw  me 

When  I  found  I  could  not  go. 

Half  the  night  I  watched  the  heavens — 

Fizz  like  '8i  champagne — 
Fly  to  sixes  and  to  sevens, 

Wheel  and  thunder  back  again; 
And  when  all  was  peace  and  order 

Save  one  planet  nailed  askew. 
Much  I  wept  because  my  warder 

Would  not  let  me  set  it  true. 

After  frenzied  hours  of  waiting, 

When  the  Earth  and  Skies  were  dumb, 
Pealed  an  awful  voice  dictating 

An  interminable  sum, 
Changing  to  a  tangled  story — 

"What  she  said  you  said  I  said" — 
Till  the  moon  arose  in  glory, 

And  I  found  her  ...  in  my  head ; 

Then  a  face  came,  blind  and  weeping, 
And  it  couldn't  wipe  its  eyes, 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  37 

And  it  muttered  I  was  keeping 

Back  the  moonlight  from  the  skies; 

So  I  patted  it  for  pity, 

But  it  whistled  shrill  with  wrath. 

And  a  huge  black  Devil  City 
Poured  its  peoples  on  my  path. 

So  I  fled  with  steps  uncertain 

On  a  thousand-year  long  race, 
But  the  bellying  of  the  curtain  < 

Kept  me  always  in  one  place;  >■ 

While  the  tumult  rose  and  maddened 

To  the  roar  of  Earth  on  fire, 
Ere  it  ebbed  and  sank  and  saddened 

To  a  whisper  tense  as  wire. 

In  intolerable  stillness 

Rose  one  little,  little  star. 
And  it  chuckled  at  my  illness, 

And  it  mocked  me  from  afar; 
And  its  brethern  came  and  eyed  me, 

Called  the  Universe  to  aid ; 
Till  I  lay,  with  naught  to  hide  me, 

'Neath  the  Scorn  of  All  Things  Made. 

Dim  and  saffron,  robed  and  splendid, 

Broke  the  solemn,  pitying  Day, 
And  I  knew  my  pains  were  ended, 

And  I  turned  and  tried  to  pray ; 
But  my  speech  was  shattered  wholly, 

And  I  wept  as  children  weep. 
Till  the  dawn-wind,  softly,  slowly 

Brought  to  burning  eyelids  sleep. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 


MY    RIVAL.  i 

I  go  to  concert,  party,  ball —  ; 

What  profit  is  in  these?  I 

I  sit  alone  against  the  wall  j 

And  strive  to  look  at  ease.  J 

The  incense  that  is  mine  by  right  ] 

They  burn  before  Her  shrine;  ', 

And  that's  because  I'm  seventeen  ■ 

And  She  is  forty-nine. 

I  cannot  check  my  girlish  blush,  \ 

My  color  comes  and  goes;  ■ 

I  redden  to  my  finger-tips,  5 

And  sometimes  to  my  nose.  t 

But  She  is  white  where  white  should  be,  j 

And  red  where  red  should  shine.  j 

The  blush  that  flies  at  seventeen  I 

Is  fixed  at  forty-nine.  1 

I  wish  I  had  Her  constant  cheek:  j 

I  wish  that  I  could  sing 
All  sorts  of  funn}'-  little  songs. 

Not  quite  the  proper  thing. 
I'm  very  g-aiic/ie  and  very  shy, 

Her  jokes  aren't  in  my  line; 
And,  worst  of  all,  I'm  seventeen 

While  She  is  forty-nine. 

The  young  men  come,  the  young  men  go,  , 

Each  pink  and  white  and  neat,  j 

She's  older  than  their  mothers,  but  i 
They  grovel  at  Her  feet. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  39  ^ 

They  walk  beside  Her  'rickshaw  wheels—  ' 

None  ever  walk  by  mine ;  \ 

And  that's  because  I'm  seventeen 
And  She  is  forty-nine. 

She  rides  with  half  a  dozen  men,  ' 

(She  calls  them  *'boys"  and  "mashers")  ^ 

I  trot  along  the  Mall  alone ;  \ 

My  prettiest  frocks  and  sashes  \ 

Don't  help  to  fill  my  programme-card,  ] 

And  vainly  I  repine  ; 

From  ten  to  two  A.  M.  \ 

Ah  me!     Would  I  were  forty-nine!  i 

She  calls  me  "darling,"  "pet,"  and  "dear  "  I 

And  "sweet  retiring  maid."  '                     \ 

I'm  always  at  the  back,  I  ki>ow,  \ 

She  puts  me  in  the  shade.  '\ 

She  introduces  me  to  men,  \ 

"Cast"  lovers,  I  opine,  ^i 

For  sixty  takes  to  seventeen,  -I 

Nineteen  to  forty-nine.  1 

But  even  She  must  older  grow  '' 

And  end  Her  dancing  days, 
She  can't  go  on  forever  so 

At  concerts,  balls,  and  plays. 
One  ray  of  priceless  hope  I  see 

Before  my  footsteps  shine  : 
Just  think,  that  She'll  be  eighty-one 

When  I  am  forty-nine. 


40  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 


THE   LOVERS'  LITANY. 

Eyes  of  gray — a  sodden  quay, 
Driving  rain  and  falling  tears, 
As  the  steamer  wears  to  sea 
In  a  parting  storm  of  cheers. 

Sing,  for  Faith  and  Hope  are  high- 
None  so  true  as  you  and  I — 
Sing  the  Lovers'  Litany: 
**Love  like  ours  can  never  die!" 

Eyes  of  black — a  throbbing  keel, 

Milky  foam  to  left  and  right ; 

Whispered  converse  near  the  wheel 

In  the  brilliant  tropic  night. 

Cross  that  rules  the  Southern  Sky! 
Stars  that  sweep  and  wheel  and  fly 
Hear  the  Lovers'  Litany: — 
**Love  like  ours  can  never  die!" 

Eyes  of  brown — a  dusty  plain 
Split  and  parched  with  heat  of  June, 
Flying  hoof  and  tightened  rein, 
Hearts  that  beat  the  old,  old  tune. 
Side  by  side  the  horses  fly, 
Frame  we  now  the  old  reply 
•    Of  the  Lovers'  Litany: — 
"Love  like  ours  can  never  die!" 

Eyes  of  blue — the  Simla  Hills 
Silvered  with  the  moonlight  hoar; 
Pleading  of  the  waltz  that  thrills, 
Dies  and  echoes  round  Benmore. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.                41  ' 

•Mabel,"  "Officers,"  '•Good-by/'  { 

Glamor,  wine,  and  witchery —  i 

On  my  soul's  sincerity,  \ 

'*Love  like  ours  can  never  die!"  i 

Maidens,  of  your  charity,  J 
Pity  my  most  luckless  state. 

Four  times  Cupid's  debtor  I —  \ 
Bankrupt  in  quadruplicate. 

Yet,  despite  this  evil  case,  i 

And  a  maiden  showed  me  grace, 

Four-and-forty  times  would  I  .' 

Sing  the  Lovers'  Litany: —  ; 

**Love  like  ours  can  never  die!"  ; 


A  BALLAD  OF  BURIAL. 
("Saint  Praxed's  ever  was  the  Church  for  Peace.")  ; 

If  down  here  I  chance  to  die,  i 

Solemnly  I  beg  you  take 

All  that  is  left  of  ** I"  ' 

To  the  Hills  for  old  sake's  sake.  ' 

Pack  me  very  thoroughly  ) 

In  the  ice  that  used  to  slake  i 
Pegs  I  drank  when  I  was  dry — 

This  observe  for  old  sake's  sake.  > 

I 

To  the  railway  station  hie, 

There  a  single  ticket  take  ,; 

For  Umbal la— goods  train — I  | 

Shall  not  mind  delay  or  shake. 
I  shall  rest  contentedly 


42  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

Spite  of  clamor  coolies  make ; 
Thus  in  state  and  dignity 

Send  me  up  for  old  sake's  sake. 

Next  the  sleepy  Babu  wake, 

Book  a  Kalku  van  *'for  four." 
Few,  I  think,  will  care  to  make 

Journeys  with  me  any  more 
As  they  used  to  do  of  yore. 

I  shall  need  a  "special  "  break — 
Thing  I  never  took  before — 

Get  me  one  for  old  sake's  sake. 

After  that — arrangements  make. 

No  hotel  will  take  me  in. 
And  a  bullock's  back  would  break 

Neath  the  teak  and  leaden  skin. 
Tonga  ropes  are  frail  and  thin, 

Or,  did  I  a  back  seat  take, 
In  a  tonga  I  might  spin — 

Do  your  best  for  old  sake's  sake. 

After  that — your  work  is  done. 

Recollect  a  Padre  must 
Mourn  the  dear  departed  one — 

Throw  the  ashes  and  the  dust. 
Don't  go  down  at  once.     I  trust 

You  will  find  excuse  to  "snake 
Three  days'  casual  on  the  bust," 

Get  your  fun  for  old  sake's  sake. 

I  could  never  stand  the  Plains. 

Think  of  blazing  June  and  May, 
Think  of  those  September  rain$ 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  43 

Yearly  till  the  Judgment  Day! 
I  should  never  rest  in  peace, 

I  should  sweat  and  lie  awake. 
Rail  me,  then,  on  my  decease, 

To  the  Hills  for  old  sake's  sake. 


PAGETT,    M.   P. 

The  toad  beneath  the  harrow  knows 
Exactly  where  each  tooth-point  goes. 
The  butterfly  upon  the  road 
Preaches  contentment  to  that  toad. 

Pagett,   M.    P.,   was  a  liar,   and  a  fluent  liar 

therewith, — 
He  spoke   of  the  heat  of  India  as  the  ''Asian 

Solar  Myth;" 
Came  on  a  four  months*   visit,   to  "study  the 

East,"  in  November, 
And  I  got  him  to  sign  an  agreement  vowing 

to  stay  till  September. 

March  came  in  with  the  koil.     Pagett  was  cool 

and  gay, 
Called  me  a  "bloated  Brahmin,"  talked  of  my 

"princely  pay." 
March   went  ou^   with  the  roses.     "Where  is 

your  heat?"  said  he. 
"Coming,"  said  I  to  Pagett.     "Skittles!"  said 

Pagett,  M.   P. 

April  began  with    the   punkah,    coolies,    and 

prickly-heat, — 
Pagett  was  dear  to  mosquitoes,  sand  flies  found 

him  a  treat. 


44  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

He  gr.ew  speckled  and  lumpy — hammered,   I 

grieve  to  say, 
Aryan  brothers  who  fanned  him,  in  an  illiberal 

way. 

May  set  in  with  a  dust-storm, — Pagett  went 
down  with  the  sun. 

All  the  delights  of  the  season  tickled  him  one 
by  one. 

Imprimis — ten  days'  "liver" — due  to  his  drink- 
ing beer; 

Later,  a  dose  of  fever — slight,  but  he  called  it 
severe. 

Dysent'ry  touched  him  in  June,  after  the  Chota 

Bursat — 
Lowered  his  portly  person — made  him  yearn 

to  depart. 
He  didn't  call  me  a  "Brahmin,"  or  "bloated," 

or  "overpaid," 
But  seemed  to  think  it  a  wonder  that  any  one 

stayed. 

July  was  a  trifle  unhealthy, — Pagett  was  ill 

with  fear. 
Called  it  the  "Cholera  Morbus,"  hinted  that 

life  was  dear. 
He  babbled  of  "Eastern  exile,"  and  mentioned 

his  home  with  tears ; 
But  I  hadn't  seen  my  children  for  close  upon 

seven  years. 

We  reached  a  hundred  and  twenty  once  in  the 
Court  at  noon, 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  45 

(I've  mentioned  Pagett    was    portly)   Pagett 

went  off  in  a  swoon. 
That  was  an   end  to  the  business;  Pagett,  the 

perjured,  fled 
With  a  practical,  working  knowledge  of  *' Solar 

Myths"  in  his  head. 

And  I  laughed  as  I  drove  from  the  station,  but 

the  mirth  died  out  on  my  lips 
As  I  thought  of  the  fools  like  Pagett  who  write 

of  their  "Eastern  trips," 
And   the   sneers  of  the     traveled   idiots  who 

duly  misgovern  the  land, 
And  I  prayed  to  the  Lord  to  deliver  another 

one  into  my  hand. 


THE  RUPAIYAT  OF  OMAR  KALVIN. 

[Allowing  for  the  difference  'twixt  prose  and  rhymed 
exaggeration,  this  ought  to  reproduce  the  sense  of  what 

Sir  A told    the    nation  some  time  ago,   when    the 

Government  struck  from  our  incomes  two  per  cent.] 

Now  the  New  Year,  reviving  last  Year's  Debt, 
The  Thoughtful   Fisher  casteth  wide  his  Net; 

So  I  with  begging  Dish  and  ready  Tongue 
Assail  all  Men  for  all  that  I  can  get. 

Imports  indeed  are  gone  with  all  their  Dues — 
Lo!  Salt  a  Lever  that  I  dare  not  use, 

Nor  may  I  ask  the  Tillers  in  Bengal — 
Surely  my  Kith  and  Kin  will  not  refuse! 


4e  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

Pay — and  I  promise,  by  the  Dust  of  Spring", 
Retrenchment.     If  my  promises  can  bring 
Comfort,    Ye  have   Them  now  a  thousand- 
fold— 
By  Allah !    I  will  promise  anything ! 

Indeed,  indeed,  Retrenchment  oft  before 
I  swore — but  did  I  mean  it  when  I  swore? 
And   then,  and  then.  We  wandered  to  the 
Hills, 
And  so  the  Little  Less  became  Much  More. 

Whether  at  Boileaugunge  or  Babylon, 

I  know  not  how  the  wretched  Thing  is  done, 

The  items  of  Receipt  grow  surely  small; 
The  Items  of  Expense  mount  one  by  one. 

I  cannot  help  it.     What  have  I  to  do 

With  One  and   Five,   or    Four,   or   Three,  or 

Two? 
Let  Scribes  spit  Blood  and  Sulphur  as  they 

please, 
Or  Statemen  call  me  foolish — Heed  not  you. 

Behold,  I  promise — Anything  You  Will. 
Behold,  I  greet  you  with  an  empty  Till — 

Ah!  Fellow-Sinners,  of  your  Chanty 
Seek  not  the  Reason  of  the  Dearth,  but  fill. 

For  if  I  sinned  and  fell,  where  lies  the  Gain 
Of  ku'iwledge?  Would  it  ease  you  of  your  Pain 

To  know  the  tangled  Threads  of  Revenue, 
I  ravel  deeper  in  a  hopeless  Skein? 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  47 

••Who  hath  not  Prudence"— what  was  it  I  said, 
Uf  Her  who  paints  Her  Eyes  and  tires  Her 
Head, 

And  Gibes  and   mocks   the    People  in   the 
Street, 
And  fawns  upon  them  for  Her  thriftless  Bread? 

Accursed  is  She  of  Eve's  daughters- 
She  Hath  cast  off  Prudence,  and  Her  End  shall 
be 

Destruction  .  .   .   Brethren,  of  your  Bounty 
grant  ^ 

Some  portion  of  your  daily  Bread  to  Me. 


THE   MARE'S  NEST. 

Jane  Austen  Beecher  Stowe  de  Rouse 
Was  good  beyond  all  earthly  need; 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  her  spouse 
Was  very,  very  bad  indeed. 

He  smoked  cigars,  called  churches  slow, 

And  raced— but  this  she  did  not  know. 

For  Belial  Machiavelli  kept 

The  little  fact  a  secret,  and. 
Though  o'er  his  minor  sins  she  wept, 

Jane  Austen  did  not  understand 
That  Lilly  -thirteen-two  and  bay- 
Absorbed  one-half  her  husband's  pay. 

She  was  so  good,  she  made  him  worse; 
(Some  women  are  like  this,  I  think;) 


48  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 


He  taught  her  parrot  how  to  curse, 
Her  Assam  monkey  how  to  drink. 
He  vexed  her  righteous  soul  until 
She  went  up,  and  he  went  down  hill. 

Then  came  the  crisis,  strange  to  say. 
Which  turned  a  good  wife  to  a  better. 

A  telegraphic  peon,  one  day, 

Brought  her — now,  had  it  been  a  letter 

For  Belial  Machiavelli,   I 

Know  Jane  would  just  have  let  it  lie. 

But  'twas  a  telegram  instead. 

Marked  "urgent,"  and  her  duty  plain 
To  open  it.     Jane  Austen  read: — 

"Your  Lilly's  got  a  cough  again. 
Can't  understand  why  she  is  kept 
At  your  expense.  "     Jane  Austen  wept. 

It  was  a  misdirected  wire. 

Her  husband  was  at  Shaitanpore. 
She  spread  her  anger,  hot  as  fire, 

Through  six  thin  foreign  sheets  or  more, 
Sent  off  that  letter,  wrote  another 
To  her  solicitor — and  mother. 

Then  Belial  Machiavelli  saw 
Her  error  and,  I  trust,  his  own, 

Wired  to  the  minion  of  the  Law, 
And  traveled  wifeward — not  alone. 

For  Lilly — thirteen-two  and  bay — 

Came  in  a  horse-box  all  the  way. 

There  was  a  scene — a  weep  or  two — 
With  many  kisses.     Austen  Jane 


"Boanerges  BHtzen  felt  that  this  was  fame."— Page  29. 

Departmental  Ditties. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  49 

Rode  Lilly  all  the  season  through, 

And  never  opened  wires  again. 
She  races  now  with  Belial.     This 

Is  very  sad,  but  so  it  is. 


IN   SPRINGTIME. 

My  garden  blazes  brightly  with  the  rosebush 
and  the  peach, 
And  the  koil  sings  above  it,  in  the  siris  by 
the  well. 
From  the  creeper-covered    trellis   comes   the 
squirrel's  chattering  speech, 
And  the  blue-jay  screams  and  flutters  where 
the  cheery  sat-bhai  dwell. 
But  the  rose  has  lost   its  fragrance,  and  the 
koiVs  note  is  strange ; 
I  am  sick  of  endless  sunshine,  sick  of  blos- 
som-burdened bough. 
Give  me  back  the  leafless  woodlands  where  the 
winds  of  Springtime  range — 
Give  me  back  one  day  in  England,  for  it's 
Spring  in  England  now! 

Through  the  pines  the  gusts  are  booming,  o'er 
the  brown  fields  blowing  chill, 
From  the  furrow  of  the  ploughshare  streams 
the  fragrance  of  the  loam. 
And  the  hawk  nests  on  the  cliff-side  and  the 
jackdaw  in  the  hill, 
And  my  heart  is  back  in  England  mid  the 
sights  and  sounds  of  Home, 

A  Ditties 


50  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

But  the  garland  of  the  sacrifice  this  wealth  of 
rose  and  peach  is ; 
Ah!    koil,    little  koil,    singing  on  the    sirh 
bough, 
In  my  ears  the  knell  of  exile  your  ceaseless 
bell-like  speech  is — 
Can   you  tell  me  aught  of  England  or  of 
Spring  in  England  now? 


THE    OVERLAND  MAIL. 

(Foot-Service  to  the  Hills.) 

In  the  name  of  the  Empress  of  India,  make 

way, 

O  Lords  of  the  Jungle,   wherever  you  roam. 

The  woods  are  astir  at  the  close  of  the  day — 

We  exiles  are  waiting  for  letters  from  Home. 

Let  the  robber     retreat — let    the    tiger   turn 

tail- 
In  the  Name  of  the   Empress,  the  Overland 
Mail! 

With  a  jingle  of  bells  as  the  dusk  gathers  in. 
He  turns  to  the  foot-path  that  heads  up  the 

hill  — 
The    bags  on   his  back  and  a  cloth  round  his 

chin, 
And,  tucked  in  his  waist-belt,  the  Post  Office 

bill:— 
"Despatched  on  this  date,  as  received  by  the 

rail. 
Per  runner,  two  bags  of  the  Overland  Mail/' 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  51 

Is   the   torrent  in  spate?    He  must  ford  it   or 
swim. 
Has  the  rain  wrecked  the  road?    He  must 
climb  by  the  clifif. 

Does  the  tempest  cry ''Halt?"     What  are  tem- 
pests to  him? 

^jtI^^  Service  admits  not  a  "but"  or  an  "if  " 

While  the  breath's  in  his  mouth,  he  must  bear 
Without  fail, 

In   the    Name  of  the   Empress,  the  Overland 
Mail. 

From  aloe  to  rose-oak,  from  rose-oak  to  fir 

From  level  to  upland,  from  upland  to  crest 
From  rice-field  to  rock-ridge,  from  rock-ridee 
to  spur,  ^ 

Fly    the     soft-sandaled    feet,      strains    the 
brawny  brown  chest. 
From   rail   to   ravine—to   the   peak  from    the 
vale — 

Up,  up  through   the   night  goes  the  Overland 
Mail. 

There's  a  speck  on   the  hillside,  a  dot  on  the 
road — 
A  jingle  of  bells  on  the  foot-path  below— 
There's  a  scuffle      above    in    the     monkey's 
abode —  -^ 

The   world  is    awake,   and   the    clouds   are 
aglow. 

For  the  great    Sun  himself  must  attend  to  the 
hail: — 

"In  the  name  of  the   Empress,  the   Overland 
Mail! 


52  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 


POSSIBILITIES. 

Ay,  lay  him  'neath  the  Simla  pine —  \ 

A  fortnight  fully  to  be  missed,  \ 

Behold,  we  lose  our  fourth  at  whist,  j 

A  chair  is  vacant  where  we  dine.  ] 

His   place  forgets  him ;  other  men  ; 

Have  bought  his  ponies,  guns,  and  traps.  ; 

His  fortune  is  the  Great  Perhaps  \ 

And  that  cool  rest-house  down  the  glen,  ■ 

Whence  he  shall  hear,  as  spirits  may, 

Our  mundane  revel  on  the  height,  ^ 

Shall  watch  each  flashing  'nckskaw-Ught  | 

Sweep  on  to  dinner,  dance,  and  play.  \ 

Benmore  shall  woo  him  to  the  ball  ? 

With  lighted  rooms  and  braying  band,  i 

And  he  shall  hear  and  understand  j 

*' Dream  Faces"  better  than  us  all.  i 


For,  think  you,  as  the  vapors  flee 
Across  Sanjaolie  after  rain, 
His  soul  may  climb  the  hill  again 

To  each  old  field  of  victory. 

Unseen,  who  women  held  so  dear. 

The  strong  man's  yearning  to  his  kind 
Shall  shake  at  most  the  window-blind, 

Or  dull  awhile  the  card-room's  cheer. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  53 

In  his  own  place  of  power  unknown, 
His  Light  o'  Love  another's  flame, 
His  dearest  pony  galloped  lame, 

And  he  an  alien  and  alone. 

Yet  may  he  meet  with  many  a  friend- 
Shrewd  shadows,  lingering  long  unseen 
Among  us  when  '*God  save  the  Queen" 

Shows  even  "extras"  have  an  end. 

And  when  we  leave  the  heated  room. 
And,  when  at  four  the  lights  expire. 
The  crew  shall  gather  round  the  fire 

And  mock  our  laughter  in  the  gloom. 

Talk  as  we  talked,  and  they  ere  death— - 
First  wanly,  dance  in  ghostly  wise. 
With  ghosts  of  tunes  for  melodies,' 

And  vanish  at  the  morning's  breath. 


THE  BETROTHED. 

••You  must  choose  between  me  and  your  cigar." 

Open  the  old  cigar-box,  get  me  a  Cuba  stout, 
For  things  are  running  crossways,  and  Mag-He 
and  I  are  out. 

We  quarreled  about  Havanas— we  fought  o'er 

a  good  cheroot, 
And  I  know  she  is  exacting,  and  she  says  I  am 

a  brute. 


64  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

Open   the    old    cigar-box — let  me  consider  a 

space ; 
In  the  soft  blue  veil  of  the  vapor,  musing  on 

Maggie's  face. 

Maggie  is  pretty  to  look  at — Maggie's  a  loving 

lass, 
But  the  prettiest  cheeks  must    wrinkle,   the 

truest  of  loves  must  pass. 

There's  peace  in  a  Laranaga,  there's  calm  in  a 

Henry  Clay, 
But  the  best  cigar  in  an  hour  is  finished  and 

thrown  away — 

Thrown  away  for  another  as  perfect  and  ripe 

and  brown — 
But  I  could  not  throw  away  Maggie  for  fear  o' 

the  talk  o'  the  town! 

Maggie,  my  wife  at  fifty — gray  and  dour  and 

old— 
With  never  another  Maggie  to  purchase  for 

love  or  gold ! 

And  the  light  of  Days  that  have   Been,   the 

dark  of  the  Days  that  Are, 
And  Love's  torch  stinking  and  stale,  like  the 

butt  of  a  dead  cigar — 

The   butt  of  a  dead  cigar  you  are  bound  to 

keep  in  your  pocket — 
With  never  a  new  one  to  light  tho'  it's  charred 

and  black  to  the  socket. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  55 

Open  the  old  cigar-box — let   me    consider  a 

while — 
Here  is  a  mild  Manilla — there  is  a  wifely  smile. 

Which  is  the  better  portion — bondage  bought 

with  a  ring, 
Or  a  harem  of  dusky  beauties  fifty  tied  in  a 

string? 

Counselors    cunning     and    silent — comforters 

true  and  tried. 
And  never  a  one  of  the  fifty  to  sneer  at  a  rival 

bride. 

Thought  in  the  early  morning,  solace  in  time 

of  woes. 
Peace  in  the  hush  of  the  twilight,  balm  ere  my 

eyelids  close. 

This  will  the  fifty  give  me,  asking  nought  in 

return. 
With  only  a  Suttee  s  passion — to  do  their  duty 

and  burn. 

This  will  the  fifty  give  me.    When  they  are 

spent  and  dead, 
Five  times  other  fifties  shall  be  my  servants 

instead. 

The  furrows  of  far-off  Java,  the  isles  of  the 

Spanish  Main, 
When  they  hear  my  harem  is  empty,  will  send 

me  my  brides  again. 


56  DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 

I  will  take  no  heed  to  their  raiment,  nor  food 

for  their  mouth  withal, 
So  long  as  the  gulls  are  nesting,  so  long  as  the 

showers  fall. 

I  will  scent  'em  with  best  vanilla,  with  tea  will 

I  temper  their  hides, 
And  the  Moor  and  the  Mormon  shall  envy  who 

read  of  the  tale  of  my  brides. 

For  Maggie  has  written  a  letter  to  give  me  my 

choice  between 
The  wee  little  whimpering  Love  and  the  great 

god  Nick  o'  Teen. 

And  I  have  been  servant  of  Love  for  barely  a 

twelvemonth  clear, 
But  I  have  been  Priest  of  Partagas  a  matter  of 

seven  year; 

And  the  gloom  of  my  bachelor  days  is  flecked 

with  the  cheery  light 
Of  stumps  that  I  burned  to  Friendship  and 

Pleasure  and  Work  and  Fight. 

And  I  turn  my  eyes  to  the  future  that  Maggie 

and  I  must  prove, 
But  the  only  light  on  the  marshes  is  the  Will-o*- 
the- Wisp  of  Love. 

Will  it  see  me  safe  through  my  journey,  or 
leave  me  bogged  in  the  mire? 

Since  a  puff  of  tobacco  can  cloud  it,  shall  I  fol- 
low the  fitful  fire? 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES.  57 

Open    the     old    cigar-box — let    me     consider 

anew — 
Old  friends,  and  who  is  Maggie  that  I  should 

abandon  you? 

A  million  surplus  Maggies  are  willing  to  bear 

the  yoke; 
And  a  woman  is  only  a  woman,  but  a  good 

cigar  is  a  Smoke. 

Light  me  another  Cuba;  I  hold  to  my  first- 
sworn  vows. 

If  Maggie  will  have  no  rival,  I'll  have  no 
Maggie  for  spouse! 


THE    INCARNATION 


OF 


KRISHNA  MULVANEY 
AND  OTHER  STORIES 


59 


THE  INCARNATION 

OF 

KRISHNA  MULVANEY 


Once  upon  a  time  and  very  far  from  this 
land,  lived  three  men  who  loved  each  other  so 
greatly  that  neither  man  nor  woman  could 
come  between  them.  They  were  in  no  sense 
refined,  nor  to  be  admitted  to  the  outer  door- 
mats of  decent  folk,  because  they  happened  to 
be  private  soldiers  in  her  majesty's  army;  and 
private  soldiers  of  that  employ  have  small  time 
for  self-culture.  Their  duty  is  to  keep  them- 
selves and  their  accouterments  specklessly 
clean,  to  refrain  from  getting  drunk  more 
often  than  is  necessary,  to  obey  their  super- 
iors, and  to  pray  for  a  war.  All  these  things 
my  friends  accomplished,  and  of  their  own 
motion  threw  in  some  fighting- work  for  which 
the  Arm  Regulations  did  not  call.  Their  fate 
sent  them  to  serve  in  India,  which  is  not  a 
golden  country,  though  poets  have  sung  other- 
wise. There  men  die  with  great  swiftness  and 
those  who  live  suffer  many  and  curious  things. 
I  do  not  think  that  my  friends  concerned  them- 
selves much  with  the  social  or  political  aspects 
61 


62     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

of  the  East.  They  attended  a  not  unimportant 
war  on  the  northern  frontier,  another  one  on 
our  western  boundary,  and  a  third  in  Upper 
Burmah.  Then  their  regiment  sat  still  to 
recruit,  and  the  boundless  monotony  of  canton- 
ment life  was  their  portion.  They  were 
drilled  morning  and  evening  on  the  same  dusty 
parade  ground.  They  wandered  up  and  down 
the  same  stretch  of  dusty  white  road,  attended 
the  same  church  and  the  same  grog-shop,  and 
slept  in  the  same  lime-washed  barn  of  a  bar- 
rack for  two  long  years.  There  was  Mul- 
vaney,  the  father  in  the  craft  who  had  served 
with  various  regiments  from  Bermuda  to 
Halifax,  old  in  war,  scarred,  reckless,  resource- 
ful, and  in  his  pious  hours  an  unequaled  soldier. 
To  him  turned  for  help  and  comfort  six  and  a 
half  feet  of  slow  moving,  heavy-footed  York- 
shiremen,  born  on  the  wolds,  bred  in  the 
dales,  and  educated  chiefly  among  the  carriers' 
carts  at  the  back  of  York  railway-station.  His 
name  was  Learoyd,  and  his  cliiof  virtue  an 
unmitigated  patience  which  helped  him  to  win 
fights.  How  Ortheris,  a  fox-terrier  of  a  Cock- 
ney, ever  came  to  be  one  of  the  trio,  is  a  mys- 
tery which  even  to-day  I  cannot  explain 
*'There  was  always  three  av  us, "  Mulvaney 
used  to  say.  "And  by  the  grace  av  God,  so 
long  as  our  services  lasts,  three  av  us  they'll 
always  be.  'Tis  betther  so. "  They  desired 
no  companionship  beyond  their  own,  and  evil 
it  was  for  any  man  of  the  regiment  who 
attempted  dispute  with  them.  Physical  argu- 
ment was  out  of  the  question  as  regarded  Mul- 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.  63 

vaney  and  the  Yorkshireman ;  and  assault  on 
Ortheris  meant  a  combined  attack  from  these 
twain — a  business  which  no  five  men  were 
anxious  to  have  on  their  hands.  Therefore 
they  flourished,  sharing  their  drinks,  their 
tobacco,  and  their  money,  good  luck  and  evil, 
battle  and  the  chances  of  death,  life  and  the 
chances  of  happiness  from  Calicut  in  southern, 
to  Pashawur  in  northern  India.  Through  no 
merit  of  my  own  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  be 
in  a  measure  admitted  to  their  friendship — 
frankly  by  Mul vaney  from  the  beginning,  sul- 
lenly and  with  reluctance  by  Learoyd,  and  sus- 
piciously by  Ortheris,  who  held  to  it  that  no 
man  not  in  the  army  could  fraternize  with  a 
red-coat.  *'Like  to  like,"  said  he.  "I'm  a 
bloomin'  sodger — he's  a  bloomin'  civilian. 
'Taint  natural— that's  all." 

But  that  was  not  all.  They  thawed  pro- 
gressively, and  in  the  thawing  told  me  more  of 
their  lives  and  adventures  than  I  am  likely  to 
find  room  for  here. 

Omitting  all  else,  this  tale  begins  with  the  la- 
mentable ihirst  that  was  at  the  beginning  of 
First  Causes.  Never  was  such  a  thirst — Mul- 
vaney  told  me  so.  They  kicked  against  their 
compulsory  virtue,  but  the  attempt  was  only 
successful  in  the  case  of  Ortheris.  He  whose 
talents  were  many,  went  frrth  into  the 
highways  and  stole  a  dog  from  a  "civilian" 
— videlicet,  some  one,  he  knew  not  who, 
not  in  the  army.  Now  that  civilian  was 
but  newly  connected  by  marriage  with 
the   colonel     of    the    regiment,    and     outcry 


64     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

was  made  from  quarters  last  anticipated  by 
Ortheris,  and,  in  the  end,  he  was  forced,  lest  a 
worse  thing  should  happen,  to  dispose  at 
ridiculously  unremunerative  rates  of  as  promis- 
ing a  small  terrier  as  ever  graced  one  end  of  a 
leading  string.  The  purchase-money  was 
barely  sufficient  for  one  small  outbreak  which 
led  him  to  the  guard-room.  He  escaped,  how- 
ever, with  nothing  worse  than  a  severe  repri- 
mand, and  a  few  hours  of  punishment  drill. 
Not  for  nothing  had  he  acquired  the  reputation 
of  being  *'the  best  soldier  of  his  inches" 
in  the  regiment.  Mulvaney  had  taught 
personal  cleanliness  and  efficiency  as  the 
first  articles  of  his  companions'  creed.  "A 
dhirty  man,"  he  was  used  to  say,  in  the 
speech  of  his  kind,  *'goes  to  clink  for  weakness 
in  the  knees,  an*  is  coort-martialed  for  a  pair 
av  socks  missin* ;  but  a  clane  man,  such  as  is 
an  ornament  to  his  service — a  man  whose 
buttons  are  gold,  whose  coat  is  wax  upon  him, 
an*  whose  'couterments  are  widout  a  speck — 
that  man  may,  spakin'  in  reason,  do  fwhat  he 
likes,  an*  dhrink  from  day  to  divil.  That's  the 
pride  av  bein'  dacint. " 

We  sat  together,  upon  a  day,  in  the  shade  of 
a  ravine  far  from  the  barracks,  where  a  water- 
course used  to  run  in  rainy  weather.  Behind 
us  was  the  scrub  jungle,  in  which  jackals, 
peacocks,  the  gray  wolves  of  the  Northwestern 
Provinces,  and  occasionally  a  tiger  estrayed 
from  Central  India,  were  supposed  to  dwell. 
In  front  lay   the    cantonment,  glaring    white 


Jane  Austen  wept."— Page  48. 

Depaxtmental  Ditties. 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.  65 

tinder  a  glaring  sun,  and  on  either  side  led  the 
broad  road  that  led  to  Delhi. 

It  was  the  scrub  that  suggested  to  my  mind 
the  wisdom  of  Mulvaney  taking  a  day's  leave 
and  going  upon  a  shooting  tour.  The  peacock 
IS  a  holy  bird  throughout  India,  and  whoso 
slays  one  is  in  danger  of  being  mobbed  by  the 
nearest  villagers;  but  on  the  last  occasion  that 
Mulvaney  had  gone  forth  he  had  contrived 
without  in  the  least  offending  local  religious 
susceptibilities,  to  return  with  six  beautiful 
peacock  skins  which  he  sold  to  profit.  It  seemed 
just  possible  then — 

*'But  fwhat  manner  av  use  is  ut  to  me  goin' 
widout  a  dhrink?  The  ground's  powdher-dry 
underfoot,  an'  ut  gets  unto  the  throat  fit  to 
kill,"  wailed  Mulvaney,  looking  at  me 
reproachfully.  "An'  a  peacock  is  not  a  bird 
you  can  catch  the  tail  av  onless  ye  run.  Can 
a  man  run  on  wather— an'  jungle-wather,  too?" 
^  Ortheris  had  considered  the  question  in  all 
Its  bearings.  He  spoke,  chewing  his  pipe-stem 
meditatively: 

"  *Go  forth,  return  in  glory. 
To  Clusium's  royal  'ome; 
And  round  these  bloomin'  temples  'ang 
The  bloomin'  shields  o*  Rome.* 

You'd  better  go.  You  ain't  to  shoot  yourself 
—not  while  there's  a  chanst  of  liquor.  Me  an' 
Learoyd  '11  stay  at  'ome  an'  keep  shop— case  o* 
anythin'  turnin'  up.  But  you  go  out  with  a 
gas-pipe  gun  an'  ketch  the  little  peacockses  or 
somethin'.  You  kin  get  one  day's  leave 
&  Dittiee 


'66  INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

easy  as  winkin'.     Go  along  an'  get  it,  and  get 
peacockses  or  somethin'." 

*'Jock,"  said  Mulvaney,  turning  to  Learoyd 
who  was  half  asleep  under  the  shadow  of  the 
bank.     He  roused  slowly. 

*'Sitha,  Mulvaney,  go,"  said  he. 

And  Mulvaney  went,  cursing  his  allies  with 
Irish  fluency  and  barrack-room  point. 

*'Take  note,"  said  he,  when  he  had  won  his 
holiday  and  appeared  dressed  in  his  roughest 
clothes  with  the  only  other  regimental  fowl- 
ing-piece in  his  h and — ' ' take  note,  Jock,  an*  you, 
Orth'ris,I  am  goin'  in  the  face  av  my  own  will — 
all  for  to  please  you.  I  misdoubt  anythin*  will 
come  avpermiscuous  huntin*  afther  peacockses 
in  a  disolit  Ian' ;  an'  I  know  that  I  will  lie  down 
an*  die  wid  thirrst.  Me  catch  peacockses  for 
you,  ye  lazy  scuts — an'  be  sacrificed  by  the 
peasanthry. " 

He  waved  a  huge  paw  and  went  away. 

At  twilight,  long  before  the  appointed  hour, 
he  returned  empty-handed,  much  begrimed 
with  dirt. 

** Peacockses?"  queried  Ortheris,  from  the 
safe  rest  of  a  barrack-room  table,  whereon  he 
was  smoking  crossed-legged,  Learoyd  fast 
asleep  on  a  bench. 

**Jock,'*  said  Mulvaney,  as  he  stirred  up  the 
sleeper.     **  Jock,  can  ye  fight?     Will  ye  fight?" 

Very  slowly  the  meaning  of  the  words  com- 
municated itself  to  the  half-roused  man.  He 
understood — and  again — what  might  these 
things  mean?  Mulvaney  was  shaking  him 
savagely.     Meantime    the    men   in  the   room 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.     67 

howled  with   delight.     There   was  war  in  the 
bond^s  ^^^"^^  ^^  last— war  and  the  breaking  of 

Barrack-room  etiquette  is  stringent.  On  the 
direct  challenge  must  follow  the  direct  reply 
This  IS  more  binding  than  the  tic  of  tried 
friendship.  Once  again  Mulvaney  repeated 
the  question.  Learoyd  answered  by  the  only 
means  in  his  power  and  so  swiftly  that  the 
Irishman  had  barely  time  to  avoid  the  blow 
11  ,^?^§^^ter  around  increased.  Learoyd 
looked  bewilderedly  at  his  friend-himself  as 
greatly  bewildered.  Ortheris  dropped  from 
the  table.      His  world  was  falling. 

•'Come  outside,"  said  Mulvaney;  and  as  the 
occupants  of  the  barrack-room  prepared  ioy- 
ously  to  follow,  he  turned  and  said  furiously  •-- 
There  will  be  no  fight  this  night-onless  any 
wan  av  you  is  wishful  to  assist.  The  man  that 
Qoes,  follows  on." 

No  man  moved.  The  three  passed  out  into 
the  moonlight,  Learoyd  fumbling  with  the 
buttons  of  his  coat.  The  parade  ground  was 
deserted  except  for  the  scurrying  jackals. 
Mulvaney  s  impetuous  rush  carried  his  com- 
panions far  into  the  open  ere  Learoyd 
attempted  to  turn  around  and  continue  the 
discussion. 

"Be  still,  now.  'Twas  my  fault  for  beginnin* 
things  in  the  middle  av  an  end,  Jock.  I  should 
ha  comminst  wid  an  explanation;  but  Tock 
dear  on  your  sowl,  are  ye  fit,  think  you,  for 
the  finest  fight  that  Iver  was— betther  than 
ngntin  me?    Considher  before  ye  answer." 


68  INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

More  than  ever  puzzled,  Learoyd  turned 
round  two  or  three  times,  felt  an  arm,  kicked 
tentatively,  and  answered:  *'Ah'm  fit."  He 
was  accustomed  to  fight  blindly  at  the  bidding 
of  the  superior  mind. 

They  sat  them  down,  the  men  looking  on 
from  afar,  and  Mulvaney  untangled  himself  in 
mighty  words. 

"Followin*  your  fools*  scheme,  I  vv^int  out 
into  the  thrackless  desert  beyond  the  barricks. 
An*  there  I  met  a  pious  Hindoo  dhriving  a 
buUock-kyrat.  I  tuk  ut  for  granted  he  would 
be  delighted  for  to  convoy  me  a  piece,  an'  I 
jumped  in — ** 

"You  long,  lazy,  black-haired  swine," 
drawled  Ortheris,  who  would  have  done  the 
same  thing  under  similiar  circumstances. 

"  'Twas  the  height  av  policy.  That  na*gur 
man  dhruv  miles  an'  miles— as  far  as  the  new 
railway  line  they're  buildin*  now  back  of  the 
Tavi  River.  *  'Tis  a  kyart  for  dhirt  only, '  says 
he  now  an'  again  timorously,  to  get  nie  out  av 
ut.  *  Dhirt  I  am,'  sez  I,  *an*  the  dhryest  that 
you  iver  kyarted.  Drive  on,  me  son,  and  glory 
be  wid  you.'  At  that  I  v;ent  to  slape,  an*  took 
no  heed  till  he  pulled  up  on  the  embankment 
av  the  line  where  the  coolies  were  pilin'  mud. 
There  was  a  matther  av  tv/o  thousand  coolies 
on  that  line — you  remimbcr  that  Prisintly  a 
bell  rang,  an'  they  throops  oil  to  a  big  pay- 
shed.  'Where's  the  white  nan  in  charge?'  sez 
I  to  my  kyart-driver  *  In  the  shed,*  sez  he, 
'engaged  on  a  riffle.*  'A  fwhat?'  sez  I. 
*Riffle,*  sez  he.     'You  take  ticket.     Retakes 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.  69 

money.  You  get  nothin'.'  'Oho!*  sez  I, 
'that's  what  the  shuperior  an'  cultivated  man 
calls  a  raffle,  me  misbeguided  child  av  darkness 
an'  sin.  Lead  on  to  that  raffle,  though  fwhat 
the  mischief  'tis  doin'  so  far  away  from  uts 
home — which  is  the  charity-bazaar  at  Christ- 
mas, an'  the  colonel's  wife  grinnin'  behind  the 
tea-table — is  more  than  I  know.'  Wid  that  I 
went  to  the  shed  an'  found  'twas  pay-day 
among  the  coolies.  There  wages  was  on  a 
table  forninst  a  big,  fine,  red  buck  av  a  man — 
sivun  fut  high,  four  fut  wide,  an'  three  fut 
thick,  wid  a  fist  on  him  like  a  corn-sack.  He 
was  payin*  the  coolies  fair  an'  easy,  but  he 
wud  ask  each  man  if  he  wud  raffle  that  month, 
an'  each  man  sez,  'Yes,  av  course.'  Thin  he 
would  deduct  from  their  wages  accordin'. 
Whin  all  was  paid,  he  filled  an  ould  cigar-box 
full  of  gun-wads  an'  scattered  ut  among  the 
coolies.  They  did  not  take  much  joy  av  that 
performance,  an'  small  wondher.  A  man  close 
to  me  picks  up  a  black  gun-wad,  an'  sings  out, 
*Ihaveut. '  'Good  may  ut  do  you, '  sez  I.  The 
coolie  went  forward  to  this  big,  fine  red  man, 
who  threw  a  cloth  off  of  the  most  sumpshus, 
jooled,  enameled,  an'  variously  bediviled  sedan- 
chair  I  iver  saw. ' ' 

"Sedan-chair!  Put  your  'ead  in  a  bag. 
That  was  a  palanquin.  Don't  yer  know  a 
palanquin  when  you  see  it?"  said  Ortheris 
with  great  scorn. 

"I  chuse  to  call  ut  sedan-chair,  an*  chair  ut 
shall  be,  little  man,"  continued  the  Irishman. 
•'  'Twas  a  most  amazin'   chair — all  lined  wid 


70     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

pink  silk  and  fitted  wid  red  silk  curtains. 
'Here  ut  is,'  sez  the  red  man.  *Here  ut 
is,'  sez  the  coolie,  an'  he  grinned  weakly 
ways.  *Is  ut  any  use  to  you?*  sez  the 
red  man.  'No,'  sez  the  coolie;  'I'd  like  to 
make  a  presint  av  ut  to  you. '  'I  am  graciously 
pleased  to  accept  that  same,'  sez  the  red  man; 
an'  at  that  all  the  coolies  cried  aloud  fwhat  was 
mint  for  cheerful  notes,  an'  wint  back  to  their 
diggin',  lavin'  me  alone  in  the  shed.  The 
red  man  saw  me,  an'  his  face  grew  blue  on  his 
big,  fat  neck.  'Fwhat  d'you  want  here?'  sez 
he.  'Standin'-room  an'  no  more,'  sez  I, 
'onless  it  may  be  fwhat  ye  niver  had,  an* 
that's  manners,  ye  ruffian"  for  I  was  not  goin* 
to  have  the  service  throd  upon.  *Out  of  this,' 
sez  he.  *I'm  in  charge  av  this  section  av  con- 
struction.' *I'm  in  charge  av  mesilf,'  sez  I, 
*an'  it's  like  I  will  stay  awhile.  D'ye  raffle 
much  in  these  parts?'  'Fwhat's  that  to  you?* 
sez  he.  'Nothin','  sez  I,  'but  a  great  dale  to 
you,  for  begad  I'mthinkin'  you  get  the  full  half 
av  your  revenue  from  that  sedan-chair.  Is  ut 
always  raffled  so?'  I  sez,  an'  wid  that  I  went 
to  a  coolie  to  ask  questions.  Bhoys,  that 
man's  name  is  Dearsley,  an'  he's  been  rafflin' 
that  ould  sedan-chair  monthly  this  matter  av 
nine  months.  Ivry  coolie  on  the  section  takes 
a  ticket — or  he  gives  'em  the  go — Wanst  a 
month  on  pay-day.  Ivry  coolie  that  wins  ut 
gives  ut  back  to  him,  for  'tis  too  big  to  carry 
away,  an'  he'd  sack  the  man  that  thried  to  sell 
Ut.     That  Dearsley  has  been  makin'  the  rowliu* 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.     71 

wealth  av  Roshus  by  nefarious  rafflin*.  Two 
thousand  coolies  defrauded  wanst  a  month!" 

**Dom  t'  coolies.  Hast  gotten  t'  cheer, 
man?"  said  Learoyd. 

"Hould  on.  Havin'  onearthed  this  amazin* 
an*  stupenjus  fraud  committed  by  the  man 
Dearsley,  I  hild  a  council  av  war;  he  thryin* 
all  the  time  to  sejuce  me  into  a  fight  wid 
opprobrious  language.  That  sedan-chair  niver 
belonged  by  right  to  any  foreman  av  coolies. 
'Tis  a  king's  chair  or  a  quane's.  There's  gold 
on  ut  an  silk  an'  manner  av  trapesemints. 
Bhoys,  'tis  not  for  me  to  countenance  any  sort 
av  wrong-doin' — me  bein*  the  ould  man — but — 
any  way  he  has  had  ut  nine  months,  an'  he 
dare  not  make  throuble  av  ut  was  taken  from 
him.     Five  miles  away,  or  it  may  be  six " 

There  was  along  pause,  and  the  jackals  howl- 
ed merrily.  Learoyd  bared  one  arm  and  con- 
templated it  in  the  moonlight.  Then  he  nodded 
partly  to  himself  and  partly  to  his  friends. 
Ortheris  wriggled  with  suppressed  emotion. 

**I  thought  ye  wud  see  the  reasonableness  av 
ut,"  said  Mulvaney.  "I  made  bould  to  say 
as  much  to  the  man  before.  He  was  for  a 
direct  front  attack — fut,  horse,  an'  guns — an* 
all  for  nothin',  seein'  that  I  had  no  transport 
to  convey  the  machine  away.  *I  will  not 
argue  wid  you, '  sez  I,  'this  day,  but  subse- 
quently, Mister  Dearsley,  me  rafflin'  jool, 
we'll  talk  ut  out  lengthways.  'Tis  no  good 
policy  to  swindle  the  naygur  av  his 
hard-earned  emolumints,  an'  by  prisint 
ipformashin, — 'twas  the  kyart   man  that  tould 


72  INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY, 

me — 'ye've  been  perpethrating  that  same  for 
nine  months.  But  I'm  a  just  man,'  sez  I,  'an' 
overlookin'  the  presumpshin  that  yondher 
settee  wid  the  gilt  top  was  not  come  by  honest, ' 
— at  that  he  turned  sky-green,  so  I  knew  things 
was  more  thrue  than  tellable— 'I'm  willin'  to 
compound  the  felony  for  this  month's  win- 
nin's. '  " 

"Ah!  Ho!"  from  Learoyd  and  Ortheris. 

"That  man  Dearsley's  rushin'  on  his  fate," 
continued  Mulvaney,  solemnly  wagging  his 
head.  "All  hell  had  no  name  bad  enough  for 
me  that  tide.  Faith,  he  called  me  a  robber! 
Me!  that  was  savin'  him  from  continuin'  in  his 
evil  ways  widout  a  remonstrince,  an'  to  a  man 
av  conscience  a  remonstrince  may  change  the 
chune  av  his  life.  "Tis  not  for  me  to  argue,' 
sez  I,  'f whatever  ye  are.  Mister  Dearsley,  but 
by  my  hand  I'll  take  away  the  temptation  for 
you  that  lies  in  that  sedan-chair.'  'You  will 
have  to  fight  me  for  ut,'  sez  he,  'for  well  I 
know  you  will  never  dare  make  report  to  any 
one.'  'Fight  I  will,'  sez  I,  'but  not  this  day, 
for  I'm  rejuced  for  want  av  nourishment.* 
*Ye're  an  ould  bould  hand,'  sez  he,  sizin'  me 
up  an'  down;  'ana  jool  av  a  fight  we  will 
have.  Eat  now  an'  dhrink,  an*  go  your  way.' 
Wid  that  he  gave  me  some  hump  an'  whisky, 
good  whisky,  an'  we  talked  av  this  an'  that  the 
while. 

"It  goes  hard  on  me  now,'  sez  I,  wipin* 
my  mouth,  'to  confiscate  that  piece  av 
furniture;  but  justice  is  justice.'  'Ye've  not 
got  ut  yet,'  sez  he;  'there's  the  fight  between.' 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.  73 

'There  is,'  sez  I,  *an*  a  good  fight.  Ye  shall 
have  the  pick  av  the  best  quality  in  my  regi- 
ment for  the  dinner  you  have  given  this  day.  * 
Then  I  came  hot-foot  for  you  two.  Hould  your 
tongue,  the  both.  'Tis  this  way.  To-morrow 
we  three  will  go  there  an'  he  shall  have  his 
pick  betune  me  an'  Jock.  Jock's  a  dece  vin* 
fighter,  for  he  is  all  fat  to  the  eyes,  an'  he 
moves  slow.  Now  I'm  all  beef  to  the  look, 
an  I  move  quick.  By  my  reckonin',  the 
Dearsley  man  won't  take  me;  so  me  an' 
Orth'ris  '11  see  fair  play.  Jock,  I  tell  you, 
'twill  be  big  fightin', — whipped,  wid  the  cream 
above  the  jam.  Afther  the  business  'twill  take 
a  good  three  av  us — Jock  '11  be  very  hurt — to 
take  away  that  sedan-chair." 

** Palanquin."     This  from  Ortheris. 

**Fwhatever  ut  is,  we  must  have  ut.  *Tis 
the  only  sellin*  piece  av  property  widin*  reach 
that  we  can  get  so  cheap.  An'  fwhat's  a  fight 
after  all?  He  has  robbed  the  naygur  man  dis- 
honust     We  rob  him   honust. " 

"But  wot'll  we  do  with  the  bloomin* 
harticle  when  we've  got  it?  Them  palanquins 
are  as  big  as  'ouses,  an'  uncommon  'ard  to  sell, 
as  McCleary  said  when  ye  stole  the  sentry- 
box  from  the  Curragh." 

"Who's  going  to  dot*  fightin*?"  said  Lea- 
royd,  and  Ortheris  subsided.  The  three 
returned  to  barracks  without  a  word.  Mul- 
vaney's  last  argument  clinched  the  matter. 
This  palanquin  was  property,  vendible  and  to 
be  attained  in  the  least  embarrassing  fashion. 


71  INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

It  would  eventually  become  beer.  Great  was 
Mulvaney. 

Next  afternoon  a  procession  of  three 
formed  itself  and  disappeared  into  the  scrub 
in  the  direction  of  the  new  railway  line.  Lea- 
royd  alone  was  without  care,  or  Mulvaney 
dived  darkly  into  the  future  and  little  Ortheris 
feared  the  unknown. 

What  befell  at  that  interview  in  the  lonely 
pay-shed  by  the  side  of  the  half-built  embank- 
ment only  a  few  hundred  coolies  know,  and 
their  tale  is  a  confusing  one,  running  thus: 

"We  were  at  work.  Three  men  in  red  coats 
came.  They  saw  the  sahib— Dearsley  oahib. 
They  made  oration,  and  noticeably  the  small 
man  among  the  red-coats.  Dearsley  Sahib 
also  made  oration,  and  used  many  very  strong 
words.  Upon  this  talk  they  departed  together 
to  an  open  space,  and  there  the  fat  man  in  the 
red  coat  fought  with  Dearsley  Sahib  after  the 
custom  of  white  men — with  his  hands,  mak- 
ing no  noise,  and  never  at  all  pulling  Dearsley 
Sahib's  hair.  Such  of  us  as  were  not  afraid 
beheld  these  things  for  just  so  long  a  time  as 
a  man  needs  to  cook  the  midday  meal.  The 
small  man  in  the  red  coat  had  possessed  him- 
self of  Dearsley  Sahib's  watch.  No,  he  did  not 
steal  that  watch.  He  held  it  in  his  hands,  and 
at  certain  season  made  outcry,  and  the  twain 
ceased  their  combat,  which  was  like  the  com- 
bat of  young  bulls  in  spring.  Both  men  were 
soon  all  red,  but  Dearsley  Sahib  was  much 
more  red  than  the  other.  Seeing  this,  and 
fearing  for  his  life — because  we  greatly  loved 


>  INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.  75 

him— some  fifty  of  us  made  shift  to  rush  upon 
the  red  coats.  But  a  certain  man — very  black 
as  to  the  hair,  and  in  no  way  to  be  confused 
with  the  small  man,  or  the  fat  man  who  fought 
— that  man,  we  affirm,  ran  upon  us,  and  of  us 
he  embraced  some  ten  or  fifty  in  both  arms, 
and  beat  our  heads  together,  so  that  our  livers 
turned  to  water,  and  we  ran  away.  It  is  not 
good  to  interfere  in  the  fightings  of  white 
men.  After  that  Dearsley  Sahib  fell  and  did 
not  rise;  these  men  jumped  upon  his  stomach 
and  despoiled  him  of  all  his  money,  and  at- 
tempted to  fire  the  pay-shed,  and  departed.  Is 
it  true  that  Dearsley  Sahib  makes  no  com- 
plaint of  these  latter  things  having  been  done? 
We  were  senseless  with  fear,  and  do  not  at 
all  remember.  There  was  no  palanquin  near 
the  pay-shed.  What  do  we  know  about  pa- 
lanquins. Is  is  true  that  Dearsley  Sahib  does 
not  return  to  this  place,  on  account  of  sickness, 
for  ten  days?  This  is  the  fault  of  those  bad 
men  in  the  red  coats,  who  should  be  severely 
punished;  for  Dearsley  Sahib  is  both  our 
father  and  mother,  and  we  love  him  much. 
Yet  if  Dearsley  vSahib  does  not  return  to  this 
place  at  all,  we  will  speak  the  truth.  There 
was  a  palanquin,  for  the  up-keep  of  which  we 
were  forced  to  pay  nine  tenths  of  our  monthly 
wage.  On  such  mulctings  Dearsley  Sahib 
allowed  us  to  make  obeisance  to  him  before  the 
palanquin.  What  could  we  do?  We  were 
poor  men.  He  took  a  full  half  of  our  wages. 
Will  the  government  repay  us  those  moneys? 
Those  three  men  in  red  coats  bore  the  palan- 


76     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

quin  upon  their  shoulders  and  departed.  All 
the  money  that  Dearsley  Sahib  had  taken 
from  us  was  in  the  cushions  of  that  palanquin. 
Therefore  they  stole  it.  Thousands  of  rupees 
weVe  there — all  our  money.  It  was  our  bank 
box,  to  fill  which  we  cheerfully  contributed  to 
Dearsley  Sahib  three-sevenths  of  our  monthly 
wage.  Why  does  the  white  man  look  upon  us 
with  the  eye  of  disfavor?  Before  God,  there 
was  a  palanquin,  and  now  there  is  no  palan- 
quin; and  if  they  send  the  police  here  to  make 
inquisition,  we  can  only  say  that  there  never 
has  been  any  palanquin.  Why  should  a  palan- 
quin be  near  these  works?  We  are  poor  men, 
and  we  know  nothing." 

Such  is  the  simplest  version  of  the  simplest 
story  connected  with  the  descent  upon  Dears- 
ley.  From  the  lips  of  the  coolies  I  received  it. 
Dearsley  himself  was  in  no  condition  to  say 
anything,  and  Mulvaney  preserved  a  massive 
silence,  broken  only  by  the  occasional  licking 
of  the  lips.  He  had  seen  a  fight  so  gorgeous 
that  even  his  power  of  speech  was  taken  from 
him.  I  respected  that  reserve  until,  three 
days  after  the  affair,  I  discovered  in  a  disused 
stable  in  my  quarters  a  palanquin  of  unchast- 
ened  splendor  —  evidently  in  past  days  the 
litter  of  a  queen.  The  pole  whereby  it  swung 
between  the  shoulders  of  the  bearers  was  rich 
with  the  painted  papier-mache  of  Cashmere. 
The  shoulder-pads  were  of  yellow  silk.  The 
panels  of  the  litter  itself  were  ablaze  with  the 
loves  of  all  the  gods  and  goddesses  of  the  Hin- 
doo Pantheon — lacquer  on  cedar.     The  oedar 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.     77 

sliding  doors  were  fitted  with  hasps  of  trans- 
lucent Jaipur  enamel,  and  ran  in  grooves  shod 
with  silver.  The  cushions  were  of  brocaded 
Delhi  silk,  and  the  curtains,  which  once  hid 
any  glimpse  of  the  beauty  of  the  king's  palace, 
were  stiff  with  gold.  Closer  investigation 
showed  that  the  entire  fabric  was  everywhere 
rubbed  and  discolored  by  time  and  wear;  but 
even  thus  it  was  sufficiently  gorgeous  to 
deserve  housing  on  the  threshold  of  a  royal 
zenana.  I  found  no  fault  with  it,  except  that 
it  was  in  my  stable.  Then,  trying  to  lift  it  by 
the  silver-shod  shoulder-pole,  I  laughed.  The 
road  from  Dearsley's  pay- shed  to  the  canton- 
ment was  a  narrow  and  uneven  one,  and  trav- 
ersed by  three  very  inexperienced  palanquin- 
bearers,  one  of  whom  was  sorely  battered 
about  the  head,  must  have  been  a  path  of 
torment.  Still  I  did  not  quite  recognize  the 
right  of  the  three  musketeers  to  turn  me  into 
a  '* fence." 

*'rm  askin'  you  to  warehouse  ut, "  said  Mul- 
vaney,  when  he  was  brought  to  consider  the 
question.  "There's  no  steal  in  ut.  Dearsley 
tould  us  we  cud  have  ut  if  we  fought.  Jock 
fought — an'  oh,  sorr,  when  the  throuble  was 
at  uts  finest  an'  Jock  was  bleedin*  like  a  stuck 
pig,  an'  little  Orth'ris  was  shquealin'  on  one 
leg,  chewing  big  bites  outav  Dearsley 'swatch, 
I  would  ha'  given  my  place  in  the  fight  to  have 
had  you  see  wan  round.  He  tuk  Jock,  as  I  sus- 
picioned  he  would,  an'  Jock  was  deceptive. 
Nine  rounds  they  were  even  matched,  an*  at 
the  tenth —    About  that  palanquin  now. 


7S     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

There's  not  the  least  trouble  in  the  world,  or 
we  wud  not  ha'  brought  ut  here.  You  will 
ondherstand  that  the  queen — God  bless  her! — 
docs  not  reckon  for  a  privit  soldier  to  kape  ele- 
phints  an'  palanquins  an'  sich  in  barricks. 
Afther  we  had  dhragged  ut  down  from  Dears- 
ley's  through  that  cruel  scrub  that  n'r  broke 
Orth'ris*  heart,  we  set  ut  in  the  ravine  for  a 
night;  an'  a  thief  av  a  porcupine  an'  a  civit-cat 
av  a  jackal  roosted  in  ut.  as  well  we  knew  in 
the  mornin'.  I  put  ut  to  you,  sorr,  is  an 
elegant  palanquin,  fit  for  the  princess,  the 
natural  abidin'-place  av  all  the  vermin  in  can- 
tonmints?  We  brought  ut  to  you,  afther  dhark, 
and  put  ut  in  your  shtable.  Do  not  let  your 
conscience  prick.  Think  av  the  rejoicin'  men 
in  the  payshed  yonder — lookin'  at  Dearsley 
wid  his  head  tied  up  in  a  towel  —  an'  well 
knowin'  that  they  can  dhraw  their  pay  ivery 
month  widout  stoppages  for  riffles.  Indi- 
rectly, sorr,  you  have  rescued  from  an  onprin- 
cipled  son  av  a  night-hawk  the  peasantry  av  a 
numerous  village.  An'  besides,  will  I  let  that 
sedan-chair  rot  on  our  hands?  Not  I.  'Tis 
not  every  day  a  piece  av  pure  polry  comes 
into  the  market.  There's  not  a  king  widin 
these  forty  miles" — he  waved  his  hand  round 
the  dusty  horizon — *'not  a  king  wud  not  be 
glad  to  buy  it.  Some  day  meself,  whin  I  have 
leisure,  I'll  take  ut  up  along  the  road  an'  dis- 
pose av  ut. '  * 

•*How?"  said  I. 

"Get  into  ut,  av  course,  an*  keep  wan  eye 
open  through  the  curtain.    Whin  I  see  a  likely 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.     79 

man  of  the  native  persuasion,  I  will  descend 
blushin'  from  my  canopy,  and  say:  'Buy  a 
palanquin,  ye  black  scut?'  I  will  have  to  hire 
four  men  to  carry  me  first,  though,  and  that's 
impossible  till  next  pay-day." 

Curiously  enough,  Learoyd,  who  had  fought 
for  the  prize,  and  in  the  winning  secured  the 
highest  pleasure  life  had  to  offer  him,  was 
altogether  disposed  to  undervalue  it,  while 
Ortheris  openly  said  it  would  be  better  to  break 
the  thing  up.  Dearsley,  he  argued,  might  be 
a  many-sided  man,  capable,  despite  his  mag- 
nificent fighting  qualities,  of  setting  in  motion 
the  machinery  of  the  civil  law,  a  thing  much 
abhorred  by  the  soldier.  Under  the  circum- 
stances their  fun  had  come  and  passed,  the  next 
pay-day  was  close  at  hand,  when  there  would 
be  beer  for  all.  Wherefore  longer  conserve 
the  painted  palanquin? 

"A  first-class  rifle  shot  an'  a  good  little  man 
av  your  inches  you  are,"  said  Mulvaney. 
**But  you  niver  had  a  head  worth  a  soft-boiled 
egg.  'Tis  me  has  to  lie  awake  av  nights 
schamin'  an'  plottin*  for  the  three  av  us. 
Orth'ris,  me  son,  'tis  no  matther  av  a  few 
gallons  av  beer — no,  nor  twenty  gallons — but 
tubs  an'  vats  an'  firkins  in  that  sedan-chair." 

Meantime,  the  palanquin  stayed  in  my  stall, 
the  ke>  of  which  was  in  Mulvaney's  hand. 

Pay-day  came,  and  with  it  beer.  It  was  not 
in  experience  to  hope  that  Mulvaney,  dried  by 
four  weeks'  drought,  would  avoid  excess. 
Next  morning  he  and  the  palanquin  had  dis- 
appeared.    He  had  taken  the   precaution    of 


80     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

getting  three  days'  leave  *'to  see  a  friend  on 
the  railway,'*  and  the  colonel,  well  knowing 
that  the  seasonal  outburst  was  near,  and  hop- 
ing it  would  spend  its  force  beyond  the  limits 
of  his  jurisdiction,  cheerfully  gave  him  all  he 
demanded.  At  this  point  his  history,  as 
recorded  in  the  mess-room,  stopped. 

Ortheris  carried  it  not  much  further.  **No, 
'e  wasn't  drunk,"  said  the  little  man,  loyally, 
•'the  liquor  was  no  more  than  feelin'  its  way 
round  inside  of  'im ;  but  'e  went  an'  filled  that 
*ole  bloomin'  palanquin  with  bottles  'fore  'e 
went  off.  He's  gone  an'  'ired  six  men  to  carry 
*im,  an*  I  'ad  to  'elp  'im  into  'is  nupshal  couch, 
'cause  'e  wouldn't  'ear  reason.  'E's  gone  off 
in  'is  shirt  an'  trousies,  swearin'  tremenjus — 
gone  down  the  road  in  the  palanquin,  wavin' 
'is  legs  out  o'  windy." 

*'Yes,"  said  I,  ''but  where?" 

"Now  you  arx  me  a  question.  'E  said  *e 
was  going  to  sell  that  palanquin;  but  from 
observations  what  happened  when  I  was 
stuffin*  'im  through  the  door,  I  fancy  'e's  gone 
to  the  new  embarkment  to  mock  at  Dearsley. 
Soon  as  Jock's  off  duty  I'm  going  there  to  see 
if  'e's  safe — not  Mulvaney,  but  t'other  man. 
My  saints,  but  I  pity  'im  as  'elps  Terence  out  o* 
the  palanquin  when  'e's  once  fair  drunk!" 

"He'll  come  back,"  I  said. 

"  'Corse  'e  will.  On'y  question  is,  what'll  'e 
be  doin'  on  the  road.  Killing  Dearsley,  like 
as  not.  'E  shouldn't  'a  gone  without  Jock  or 
me." 

Re-enforced  by  Learoyd,  Ortheris  sought  the 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.     81 

foreman  of  the  coolie-gang^.  Dearsley's  head 
was  still  embellished  with  towels.  Mulvaney, 
drunk  or  sober,  would  have  struck  no  man  in 
that  condition,  and  Dearsley  indij^nantly  de- 
nied that  he  would  have  taken  advantage  of  the 
intoxicated  brave. 

"I  had  my  pick  o'  you  two,"  he  explained  to 
Learoyd,  "and  you  got  my  palanquin— not  be- 
fore I'd  made  my  profit  on  it.  Why'd  I  do 
harm  when  everything's  settled?  Your  man 
did  come  here— drunk  as  Davy's  cow  on  a 
frosty  night— came  a-purpose  to  mock  me— 
struck  his  'ead  out  of  the  door  and  called  me  a 
crucified  hodman.  I  made  him  drunker,  an' 
sent  him  along.     But  I  never  touched  him. " 

To  these  things,  Learoyd,  slow  to  perceive 
the  evidences  of  sincerity,  answered  only:  *'If 
owt  comes  to  Mulvaney  long  o*  you,  I'll  grip- 
pie  you,  clouts  or  no  clouts  on  your  ugly  ifead, 
an'  I'll  draw  t'  throat  twisty-ways,  man.  See 
there  now. ' ' 

The  embassy  removed  itself,  and  Dearsley, 
the  battered,  laughed  alone  over  his  supper 
that  evening. 

Three  days  passed— a  fourth  and  a  fifth. 
The  week  drew  to  a  close,  and  Mulvaney  did 
not  return.  He,  his  royal  palanquin,  and  his 
six  attendants,  had  vanished  into  air.  A  very 
large  and  very  tipsy  soldier,  his  feet  sticking 
out  of  the  litter  of  a  reigning  princess,  is  not 
a  thmg  to  travel  along  the  ways  without  com- 
ment. Yet  no  man  of  all  the  country  round 
had  seen  any  such  wonder.  He  was,  and  he 
was  not;  and  Learoyd  suggested  the  immedi- 

6   Dittiea 


8-2  INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

ate  smashment  as  a  sacrifice  to  liis  ghost. 
Ortheris  insisted  that  all  was  well. 

"When  Mulvaney  goes  up  the  road,"  said 
he,  *'  'e's  like  to  go  a  very  long  ways  up,  espe- 
cially when  'e's  so  blue  drunk  as  'e  is  now. 
But  what  gits  me  is  'is  not  bein'  'eard  of 
pullin'  wool  of  the  niggers  somewhere  about. 
That  don't  look  good.  The  drink  must  ha' 
died  out  in  'im  by  this,  unless  'e's  broke  a 
bank,  an'  then —  Why  don't  'e  come  back? 
'E  didn't  ought  to  ha'  gone  off  without  us." 

Even  Ortheris'  heart  sunk  at  the  end  of  the 
seventh  da}^,  for  half  the  regiment  were  out 
scouring  the  country-sides,  and  Learoyd  had 
been  forced  to  fight  two  men  who  hinted 
openly  that  Mulvaney  had  deserted.  To  do 
him  justice,  the  colonel  laughed  at  the  notion, 
even  when  it  was  put  forward  by  his  much- 
trusted  adjutant. 

*' Mulvaney  would  as  soon  think  of  deserting 
as  you  would,"  said  he.  *'No;  he's  either 
fallen  into  a  mischief  among  the  villagers — and 
yet  that  isn't  likely,  for  he'd  blarney  himself 
out  of  the  pit;  or  else  he  is  engaged  on  urgent 
private  affairs — some  stupendous  devilment 
that  we  shall  hear  of  at  mess  after  it  has  been 
the  round  of  the  barrack-room.  The  worst  of 
it  is  that  I  shall  have  to  give  him  twenty-eight 
days'  confinement  at  least  for  being  absent 
without  leave,  just  when  I  most  want  him  to 
lick  the  new  batch  of  recruits  into  shape.  I 
never  knew  a  man  who  could  put  polish  on 
young  soldiers  as  quickly  as  Mulvaney  can. 
How  does  he  do  it?" 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.     83 

**With  blarney  and  the  buckle-end  of  a  belt, 
sir,"  said  the  adjutant.  "He  is  worth  a  couple 
of  non-commissioned  officers  when  we  are  deal- 
ing with  an  Irish  draft,  and  the  London  lads 
seem  to  adore  him.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  if 
he  goes  to  the  cells  the  other  two  are  neither 
to  hold  nor  to  bind  till  he  comes  out  again.  I 
believe  Ortheris  preaches  mutiny  on  those 
occasions,  and  I  know  that  the  mere  presence 
of  Learoyd  mourning  for  Mulvaney  kills  all  the 
cheerfulness  of  his  room.  The  sergeants  tell 
me  that  he  allows  no  man  to  laugh  when  he 
feels  unhappy.     They  are  a  queer  gang. " 

"For  all  that,  I  wish  we  had  a  few  more  of 
them.  I  like  a  well-conducted  regiment,  but 
these  pasty-faced,  shifty-eyed,  mealy-mouthed 
young  slouches  from  the  depot  worry  me  some- 
times with  their  offensive  virtue.  They  don't 
seem  to  have  backbone  enough  to  do  anything 
but  play  cards  and  prowl  round  the  married 
quarters.  I  believe  I'd  forgive  that  old  villain 
on  the  spot  if  he  turned  up  with  any  sort  of 
explanation  that  I  could  in  decency  accept." 

"Not  likely  to  be  much  difficulty  about  that, 
sir,"  said  the  adjutant.  "Mulvaney's  explana- 
tions are  one  degree  less  wonderful  than  his 
performances.  They  say  that  when  he  was  in 
the  Black  Tyrone,  before  he  came  to  us,  he 
was  discovered  on  the  banks  of  the  Liffey  try- 
ing to  sell  his  colonel's  charger  to  a  Donegal 
dealer  as  a  perfect  lady's  hack.  Shakbolt  com- 
manded the  Tyrone  then." 

"Shakbolt  must  have  had  apoplexy  at  the 
thought  of  his  ramping  war-horses  answering  to 


84     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

that  description.  He  used  to  buy  unbacked 
devils  and  tame  them  by  starvation.  What  did 
Mulvaney  say?" 

**That  he  was  a  member  of  the  Society  for 
the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  anxious 
to  'sell  the  poor  baste  where  he  would  get 
something  to  fill  out  his  dimples.'  Shakbolt 
laughed,  but  I  fancy  that  was  why  Mulvaney 
exchanged  to  ours." 

"I  wish  he  were  back,"  said  the  colonel; 
**for  I  like  him,  and  believe  he  likes  me." 

That  evening,  to  cheer  our  souls,  Learoyd, 
Ortheris  and  I  went  into  the  waste  to  smoke 
out  a  porcupine.  All  the  dogs  attended,  but 
even  their  clamor — and  they  began  to  discuss 
the  shortcomings  of  porcupines  before  they 
left  cantonments — could  not  take  us  out  of  our- 
selves. A  large,  low  moon  turned  the  tops  of 
the  plume  grass  to  silver,  and  the  stunted 
camel-thorn  bushes  and  sour  tamarisks  into  the 
likeness  of  trooping  devils.  The  smell  of  the 
sun  had  not  left  the  earth,  and  little  aimless 
winds,  blowing  across  the  rose  gardens  to  the 
southward,  brought  the  scent  of  dried  roses 
and  water.  Our  fire  once  started,  and  the 
dogs  craftily  disposed  to  wait  the  dash  of  the 
porcupine,  we  climbed  to  the  top  of  rain- 
scarred  hillock  of  earth,  and  looked  across  the 
scrub,  seamed  with  cattle-paths,  white  with 
the  long  grass,  and  dotted  with  spots  of  level 
pond-bottom,  where  the  snipe  would  gather  in 
winter. 

"This, "  said  Ortheris,  with  a  sigh,  as  he  took 
in  the  unkempt  desolation  of  it  all,  "this  is 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.     85 

sanguinary.  This  is  unusually  sanguinary. 
Sort  o'  mad  country.  Like  a  grate  when  the 
fire's  put  out  by  the  sun. "  He  shaded  his  eyes 
against  the  moonlight. 

"An'  there's  a  loony  dancin'  in  the  middle 
of  it  all.  Quite  right.  I'd  dance,  too,  if  I 
wasn't  so  down-heart." 

There  pranced  a  portent  in  the  face  of  the 
moon — a  huge  and  ragged  spirit  of  the  waste, 
that  flapped  its  wings  from  afar.  It  had  risen 
out  of  the  earth ;  it  was  coming  toward  us,  and 
its  outline  was  never  twice  the  same.  The 
toga,  table-cloth,  or  dressing-gown,  whatever 
the  creature  wore,  took  a  hundred  shapes. 
Once  it  stopped  on  a  neighboring  mound  and 
flung  all  its  legs  and  arms  to  the  winds. 

"My,  but  that  scarecrow  'as  got  'em  bad!" 
said  Ortheris.  "Seems  like  if  'e  comes  any 
furder  we'll  'ave  to  argify  with  'im. " 

Learoyd  raised  himself  from  the  dirt  as  a 
bull  clears  his  flanks  of  the  wallow.  And  as 
a  bull  bellows,  so  he,  after  a  short  minute  at 
gaze,  gave  tongue  to  the  stars. 

"Mulvaney!  Mulvaney!     A  hoo!" 

Then  we  yelled  all  together,  and  the  figure 
dipped  into  the  hollow  till,  with  a  crash  of 
rending  grass,  the  lost  one  strode  up  to  the 
light  of  the  fire,  and  disappeared  to  the  waist 
in  a  wave  of  joyous  dogs.  Then  Learoyd  and 
Ortheris  gave  greeting  bass  and  falsetto. 

"You  damned  fool!''  said  they,  and  severally 
punched  him  with  their  fists. 

"Go  easy!"  he  answered,  wrapping  a  huge 
arm  around  each.     '*I  would  have  you  to  know 


66     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

that  I  am  a  god,  to  be  treated  as  such — though, 
by  my  faith,  I  fancy  I've  got  to  go  to  the 
guard-room  just  like  a  privit  soldier." 

The  latter  part  of  the  sentence  destroyed  the 
suspicions  raised  by  the  former.  Any  one 
would  have  been  justified  in  regarding  Mul- 
vaney  as  mad.  He  was  hatless  and  shoeless, 
and  his  shirt  and  trousers  were  dropping  off 
him.  But  he  wore  one  wondrous  garment— a 
gigantic  cloak  that  fell  from  collar-bone  to 
heels — of  pale  pink  silk,  wrought  all  over,  in 
cunningest  needlework  of  hands  long  since 
dead,  with  the  loves  of  the  Hindoo  gods.  The 
monstrous  figures  leaped  in  and  out  of  the  light 
of  the  fire  as  he  settled  the  folds  round  him. 

Ortheris  handled  the  stuff  respectfully  for  a 
moment  while  I  was  trying  to  remember 
where  I  had  seen  it  before. 

Then  he  screamed:  *'What  'ave  you  done 
with  the  palanquin?  You're  wearin'  the 
linin'." 

**I  am,"  said  the  Irishman,  *'an'  by  the 
same  token  the  'broidery  is  scrapin*  me  hide 
off.  I've  lived  in  this  sumpshus  counterpane 
for  four  days.  Me  son,  I  begin  to  ondherstand 
why  the  naygur  is  no  use.  Widout  me  boots, 
an'  me  trousers  like  an  open-work  stocking  on 
a  gyurl's  leg  at  a  dance,  I  began  to  feel  like  a 
naygur — all  timorous.  Give  me  a  pipe  an'  I'll 
tell  on." 

He  lighted  a  pipe,  resumed  his  grip  of  his  two 
friends,  and  rocked  to  and  fro  in  a  gale  of 
laughter. 

"Mulvaney,"  said  Ortheris  sternly,  "  'tain't 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.  87 

no  time  for  laughin'.  You've  given  Jock  an* 
me  more  trouble  than  you're  worth.  You  *ave 
been  absent  without  leave,  and  you'll  go  into 
the  cells  for  that;  an'  you  'ave  come  back  dis- 
gustingly dressed,  an'  most  improper,  in  the 
linin*  o'  that  bloomin'  palanquin.  Instid  of 
which  you  laugh.  An'  we  thought  you  was 
dead  all  the  time." 

*'Bhoys,"  said  the  culprit,  still  shaking 
gentl}',  *'whin  I've  done  my  tale  you  may  cry 
if  you  like,  an  'little  Orth'ris  here  can  thrample 
my  insidesout.  Ha'  done  an'  listen.  My  per- 
formmces  ha'  been  stupendous;  my  luck  has 
been  the  blessed  luck  of  the  British  army — an' 
there's  no  better  than  that.  I  went  out  drunk 
and  drinking  in  the  palanquin,  and  I  have 
come  back  a  pink  god.  Did  any  of  you  go  to 
Dearsley  afther  my  time  was  up?  He  was  at 
the  bottom  of  ut  all." 

*'Ah  said  so,"  murmured  Learoyd.  "To- 
morrow ah'll  smash  t'  face  in  upon  his  head." 

*'Ye  will  not.  Dearsley's  a  jool  av  a  man. 
Afther  Orth'ris  had  put  me  into  the  palanquin 
an'  the  six  bearer-men  were  gruntin'  down  the 
road,  I  tuk  thought  to  mock  Dearsley  for  that 
fight.  So  I  tould  thim:  *Go  to  the  embank- 
ment,'  and  there,  bein'  most  amazin'  full,  I 
shtuck  my  head  out  av  the  concern  an'  passed 
compliments  wid  Dearsley.  I  must  ha-  mis- 
called him  outrageous,  for  whin  I  am  that  ^vay 
the  power  of  the  tongue  comes  on  me.  I  can 
bare  remimber  tellin*  him  that  his  mouth 
opened  endways  like  the  mouth  of  a  skate, 
which  was  thrue  afther  Learovd  had  handled 


88     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

ut;  an'  I  clear  remimber  his  taking  no  manner 
nor  matter  of  offense,  but  givin'  me  a  big 
dhrink  of  beer.  'Twas  the  beer  that  did  the 
thrick,  for  I  crawled  back  into  the  palanquin, 
steppin*  on  me  right  ear  wid  me  left  foot,  an' 
thin  I  slept  like  the  dead.  Wanst  I  half 
roused,  an*  begad  the  noise  in  my  head  was 
tremenjus — roarin'  an*  poundin'  an'  rattlin' 
such  as  was  quite  new  to  me.  'Mother  av 
mercy,*  thinks  I,  'phwat  a  concertina  I  will 
have  on  my  shoulders  whin  I  wake!'  An'  wid 
that  I  curls  myself  up  to  sleep  before  ut  should 
get  hould  on  me.  Bhoy,  that  noise  was  not 
dhrink,  'twas  the  rattle  av  a  thrain. '* 

There  followed  an  impressive  pause. 

*'Yes,  he  had  put  me  on  a  thrain — put  me, 
palanquin  an'  all,  an'  six  black  assassins  av  his 
own  coolies  that  was  in  his  nefarious  confi- 
dence, on  the  flat  av  a  ballast-truck,  and  we 
were  rowlin'  and  bowlin'  along  to  Benares. 
Glory  be  that  I  did  not  wake  up  the  nan'  intro- 
duce m3^self  to  the  coolies.  As  I  was  sayin',  I 
slept  for  the  better  part  av  a  day  an'  a  night. 
But  remimber  you,  that  that  man  Dearsley 
had  packed  me  off  on  one  av  his  material 
thrains  to  Benares,  all  for  to  make  me  over- 
stay m.y  leave  an'  get  me  into  the  cells." 

The  explanation  was  an  eminently  rational 
one.  Benares  was  at  least  ten  hours  by  rail 
from  cantonments,  and  nothing  in  the  world 
could  have  saved  Mulvaney  from  arrest  as  a 
deserter  had  he  appeared  there  in  the  apparel 
of  his  orgies.  Dearsley  had  not  forgotten  to 
take  revenge.      Learoyd,   drawing  back  a  lit- 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.     89 

tie,  began  to  place  soft  blows  over  selected 
portions  of  Mulvaney's  body.  His  thoughts 
were  away  on  the  embankment,  and  they 
meditated  evil  for  Dearsley.  Mulvaney  con- 
tinued: "Whin  I  was  full  awake,  the  palan- 
quin was  set  down  in  a  street,  I  suspicioned, 
for  I  could  hear  people  passin*  and  talkin'. 
But  I  knew  well  I  was  far  from  home.  There  is  a 
queer  smell  upon  our  cantonments — smell  av 
dried  earth  and  brick-kilns  wid  whiffs  av  a  a 
cavalry  stable-litter.  This  place  smelt  mari- 
gold flowers  an'  bad  water,  an'  wanst  some- 
thin'  alive  came  an'  blew  heavy  with  his  muz- 
zle at  the  chink  of  the  shutter.  *It's  in  a 
village  I  am,'  thinks  I  to  myself,  *an*  the  paro- 
chial buffalo  is  investigatin'  the  palanquin.' 
But  anyways  I  had  no  desire  to  move.  Only 
lie  still  whin  you're  in  foreign  parts,  an'  the 
standin'  luck  av  the  British  army  will  carry  ye 
through.     That  is  an  epigram.     I  made  ut. 

"Thin  a  lot  av  whisperin'  devils  surrounded 
the  palanquin.  *Take  ut  up,'  says  wan  man. 
•But  who'll  pay  us?'  says  another.  *The 
Maharanee's  minister,  av  course,'  sez  the  man. 
*Oho!'  sez  I  to  myself;  'I'm  a  quane  in  me  own 
right,  wid  a  minister  to  pay  me  expenses. 
I'll  be  an  emperor  if  I  lie  still  long  enough. 
But  this  is  no  village  I've  struck.'  I  lay 
quiet,  but  I  gummed  me  right  eye  to  a  crack 
av  the  shutters,  an'  I  saw  that  the  whole  street 
was  crammed  wid  palanquins  an'  horses  an'  a 
sprinklin'  av  naked  priests,  all  yellow  powder 
an'  tigers*  tails.  But  I  may  tell  you,  Orth'ris, 
an'  you,  Learoyd,  that  av  all  the  palanquins 


90     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

ours  was  tke  most  imperial  an'  magnificent. 
Now,  a  palanquin  means  a  native  lady  all  the 
world  over,  except  whin  a  soldier  av  the 
quane  happens  to  be  takin'  a  ride.  'Women 
an'  priest!'  sez  I.  'Your  father's  son  is  in  the 
right  pew  this  time,  Terence.  There  will  be 
proceedin's. '  Six  black  devils  in  pink  muslin 
tuk  up  the  palanquin,  an'  oh!  but  the  rowlin' 
an*  the  rockin'  made  me  sick.  Thin  we  got 
fair  jammed  among  the  palanquins — not  more 
than  fifty  avthem — an'  we  grated  an'  bumped 
like  Queenstown  potato-sacks  in  a  runnin'  tide. 
I  cud  hear  the  women  giglin'  and  squirmin' 
in  their  palanquins,  but  mine  was  the  royal 
equipage.  They  made  way  for  ut,  an',  begad, 
the  pink  muslin  men  o'  mine  were  howlin*, 
*Room  for  the  Maharanee  av  Gokral-Seetarun.* 
Do  you  know  ave  the  lady,  sorr?" 

**Yes,"  said  I.  *'She  is  a  very  estimable  old 
queen  of  the  Cerntral  India  States,  and  they  say 
she  is  fat.  How  on  earth  could  she  go  to  Be- 
nares without  all  the  city  knowing  her  palan- 
quin?" 

*•  'Twas  the  eternal  foolishness  av  the  nay- 
gur  men.  They  saw  the  palanquin  lying  lone- 
ful  an'  forlornsome,  an'  the  beauty  of  ut,  after 
Dearsley's  men  had  dhropped  ut  an'  gone 
away,  an'  they  gave  ut  the  best  name  that 
occurred  to  thim.  Quite  right,  too.  For 
aught  we  know,  the  old  lady  was  travelin'  in- 
cog,— like  me.  I'm  glad  to  hear  she's  fat.  I 
was  no  light-weight  myself,  an'  my  men  were 
mortial  anxious  to  dhrop  me  under  a  great  big 
archway  promiscuously  ornamented  wid    the 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.  91 

most  improper  carvin's  an*  cuttin's  I  iver  saw. 
Begad!  they  made  me  blush — like  a  mahar- 
anee. " 

*'The  temple  of  the  Prithi-Devi,"  I  mur- 
mured, remembering  the  monstrous  horrors  of 
that  sculptured  archway  at  Benares. 

"Pretty  Devilskins,  savin'  your  presence, 
sorr.  There  was  nothin'  pretty  about  ut,  ex- 
cept me!  'Twas  all  half  dhark,  an'  whin  the 
coolies  left  they  shut  a  big  black  gate  behind 
av  us,  an'  half  a  company  av  fat  yellow  priests 
began  pully-haulin*  the  palanquins  into  dhark- 
er  place  yet — a  big  stone  hall  full  av  pillars  an* 
gods  an'  incense  an'  all  manner  av  similar 
thruck.  The  gate  disconcerted  me,  for  I  per- 
ceived I  wud  have  to  go  forward  to  get  out,  my 
retreat  bein'  cut  off.  By  the  same  token,  a 
good  priest  makes  a  bad  palanquin-coolie. 
Begad!  they  nearly  turned  me  inside  out  drag- 
ging the  palanquin  to  the  temple.  Now  the 
disposishin  ave  the  forces  inside  was  this  way. 
The  Maharanee  av  Gokral-Seetarun — that  was 
me — lay  by  the  favor  of  Providence  on  the  far 
left  flank  behind  the  dhark  av  a  pillar  carved 
with  elephants'  heads.  The  remainder  av  the 
palanquins  was  in  a  big  half  circle  facing  into 
the  biggest,  fattest,  and  most  amazin'  she-god 
that  iver  I  dreamed  av.  Her  head  ran  up  into 
the  black  above  us,  an'  her  feet  stuck  out  in 
the  light  av  a  little  fire  av  melted  butter  that 
a  priest  was  feedin'  out  av  a  butter-dish.  Thin 
a  man  began  to  sing  an'  play  on  somethin*, 
back  in  the  dhark,  an*  'twas  a  queer  song. 
Ut  made  my  hair  lift  on  the  back  av  my  neck. 


92      INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

Thin  the  doors  av  all  the  palanquins  slid  back, 
an'  the  women  bundled  out.  I  saw  what  I'll 
never  see  again.  'Twas  more  glorious  than 
transformations,  at  a  pantomime,  for  they  was 
in  pink,  an'  blue,  an'  silver,  an'  red,  an'  grass- 
green,  wid  diamonds,  an'  imeralds,  an'  great 
red  rubies.  I  never  saw  the  like,  an'  I  never 
will  again." 

"Seeing  that  in  all  probability  you  were 
watching  the  wives  and  daughters  of  most  of 
the  kings  of  India,  the  chances  are  that  you 
won't,"  I  said,  for  it  was  dawning  upon  me 
that  Mulvaney  had  stumbled  upon  a  big 
queen's  praying  at  Benares. 

"I  niver  will,"  he  said,  mournfully.  "That 
sight  doesn't  come  twict  to  any  man.  It  made 
me  ashamed  to  watch.  A  fat  priest  knocked 
at  my  door.  I  didn't  think  he'd  have  the  inso- 
lence to  disturb  the  Maharanee  av  Gokral-See- 
tarun,  so  I  lay  still.  *The  old  cow's  asleep,'  sez 
he  to  another.  'Let  her  be,'  sez  that.  *  'Twill 
be  long  before  she  has  a  calf !'  I  might  ha* 
known  before  he  spoke  that  all  a  woman  prays 
for  in  Injia — an'  for  the  matter  o'  that  in  Eng- 
land, too — is  childher.  That  made  me  more 
sorry  I'd  come,  me  bein',  as  you  well  know,  a 
childless  man. 

"They  prayed,  an'  the  butter- fires  blazed 
up  an'  the  incense  turned  everything  blue,  an' 
between  that  an'  the  fires  the  women  looked  as 
tho'  they  were  all  ablaze  an'  twinklin'.  They 
took  hoid  of  the  she-god's  knees,  they  cried 
out,  an*  they  threw  themselves  about,  an' 
that     world-without-end-amen      music      was 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.  93 

dhrivin*  thim  mad.  Mother  av  HIven!  how 
they  cried,  an*  the  ould  she-god  grinnin* 
above  them  all  so  scornful!  The  dhrink  was 
dyin'  out  in  me  fast,  an'  I  was  thinkin'  harder 
than  the  thoughts  wud  go  through  my  head — 
thinkin'  how  to  get  out,  an'  all  manner  of  non- 
sense as  well.  The  women  were  rockin'  in 
rows,  their  di'mond  belts  clickin',  an'  the  tears 
runnin'  out  betune  their  hands,  an'  the  lights 
were  goin*  lower  and  dharker.  Thin  there 
was  a  blaze  like  lightnin'  from  the  roof,  an' 
that  showed  me  the  inside  av  the  palanquin,  an' 
at  the  end  where  my  foot  was  stood  the  livin* 
spit  an'  image  o'  myself  worked  on  the  linin*. 
This  man  here,  it  was." 

He  hunted  in  the  folds  of  his  pink  cloak,  ran 
a  hand  imder  one,  and  thrust  into  the  fire-light 
a  foot-long  embroidered  presentment  of  the 
great  god  Krishna  playing  on  a  flute.  The 
heavy  jowl,  the  staring  eyes,  and  the  blue-black 
mustache  of  the  god  made  up  a  far-off  resem- 
blance to  Mulvaney. 

"The  blaze  was  gone  in  a  wink,  but  the 
whole  schame  came  to  me  thin.  I  believe  I 
was  mad,  too.  I  slid  the  off-shutter  open  an' 
rowled  out  into  the  dhark  behind  the  elephant- 
head  pillar,  tucked  up  my  trousies  to  my  knee, 
slipped  off  my  boots,  and  took  a  general  hould 
av  all  the  pink  linin'  av  the  palanquin.  Glory 
be,  ut  ripped  out  like  a  woman's  driss  when 
you  thread  on  ut  at  a  sargent's  ball,  an'  a  bot- 
tle came  with  ut.  I  tuk  the  bottle,  an'  the 
next  minut  I  was  out  av  the  dhark  av  the  pil- 
lar,   the  pink  linin'   wrapped  round  me  most 


^  INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

graceful,  the  music  thunderin'  like  kettle- 
drums, an'  a  cowld  draft  blowin*  round  my 
bare  legs.  By  this  hand  that  did  ut,  I  was 
Krishna  tootlin'  on  the  flute — the  god  that 
the  rig'mental  chaplain  talks  about.  A  sweet 
sight  I  must  ha'  looked.  I  knew  my  eyes 
were  big  and  my  face  was  wax-white,  an'  at 
the  worst  I  must  ha'  looked  like  a  ghost.  But 
they  took  me  for  the  livin*  god.  The  music 
stopped,  and  the  women  were  dead  dumb,  an' 
I  crooked  my  legs  like  a  shepherd  on  a  china 
basin,  an'  I  did  the  ghost-waggle  with  my  feet 
as  I  had  done  at  the  rig'mental  theater  many 
times,  an'  slid  across  the  temple  in  front  av 
the  she-god,  tootlin'  on  the  beer-bottle." 

*'Wot  did  you  toot?"  demanded  Ortheris. 

**Me?  Oh!"  Mulvaney  sprung  up,  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  and  sliding  gravely  in 
front  of  us,  a  dilapidated  deity  in  the  half 
light.     **1  sung: 

*•  'Only  say 

You'll  be  Mrs.  Brallaghan, 
Don't  say  nay, 
Charmin'  Juley  Callaghan.' 

I  didn't  know  my  own  voice  when  I  sung.  An' 
oh!  'twas  pitiful  to  see  the  women.  The  dar- 
lin's  were  down  on  their  faces.  Whin  I  passed 
the  last  wan  I  could  see  her  poor  little  fingers 
workin'  one  in  another  as  if  she  wanted  to 
touch  my  feet.  So  I  threw  the  tail  of  this  pink 
overcoat  over  her  head  for  the  greater  honor, 
an'  slid  into  the  dhark  on  the  other  side  of  the 
temple,  and  fetched  up  in  the  arms  av  a  big  fat 
priest.     All  I  wanted   was  to  get  away  clear. 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.     95 

So  I  tuk  him  by  his  greasy  throat  an*  shut  the 
speech  out  av  him.  *Out!*  sez  I.  'Which 
way,  ye  fat  heathen?*  *Oh!'sezhe.  'Man,* 
sez  I.  *\Vhite  man,  soldier  man,  common  sol- 
dier man.  Where  is  the  back  door?'  'This 
way,'  sez  my  fat  friend,  duckin'  behind  a  big^ 
bull-god  an'  divin*  into  a  passage.  Thin  I  re- 
mimbered  that  I  must  ha'  made  the  miraculous 
reputation  of  that  temple  for  the  next  fifty 
years.  'Not  so  fast,'  I  sez,  an'  I  held  out  both 
my  hands  wid  a  wink.  That  ould  thief  smiled 
like  a  father.  I  took  him  by  the  back  av  the 
neck  in  case  he  should  be  wishful  to  put  a  knife 
into  me  unbeknownst,  an*  I  ran  him  up  an* 
down  the  passage  twice  to  collect  his  sensibili- 
ties. 'Be  quiet,'  sez  he,  in  English.  'Now 
you  talk  sense,'  I  sez.  'Fhwat'll  you  give  me 
for  the  use  of  that  most  iligant  palanquin  I 
have  no  time  to  take  away?'  'Don't  tell,'  sez 
he.  *Is  ut  like?'  sez  I.  'But  ye  might  give 
me  my  railway  fare.  I'm  far  from  my  home, 
an'  I've  done  you  a  service.'  Bhoys,  'tis  a 
good  thing  to  be  a  priest.  The  ould  man  niver 
throubled  himself  to  draw  from  a  bank.  As  I 
will  prove  to  you  subsequint,  he  philandered 
all  round  the  slack  av  his  clothes  and  began 
dribblin'  ten-rupee  notes,  old  gold  mohurs, 
and  rupees  into  my  hand  till  I  could  hould  no 
more." 

"You  lie!"  said  Ortheris.  "You're  mad  or 
sunstrook.  A  native  don't  give  coin  unless 
you  cut  it  out  av  'im.      'Tain't  nature." 

"Then  my  lie  an'  my  sunstroke  is  concealed 
under    that    lump   av    sod  yonder/'  retorted 


96     INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY. 

Mulvaney,  unruffled,  nodding  across  the  scrub. 
**An'  there's  a  dale  more  in  nature  than  your 
squidci^y  little  legs  have  iver  taken  you  to, 
Orth'ris,  me  son.  Four  hundred,  and  thirty- 
four  rupees  by  my  reckonin',  an'  a  big  fat  gold 
necklace  that  I  took  from  him  as  a  remim- 
brancer. " 

•'An'  'e  give  it  to  you  for  love?"  said  Or- 
theris. 

**We  were  alone  in  that  passage.  Maybe  I 
was  a  trifle  too  pressin',  but  considher  fwhat  I 
had  done  fof  the  good  av  the  temple  and  the 
iverlastin*  joy  av  those  women.  'Twas  cheap 
at  the  price.  I  would  ha'  taken  more  if  I  could 
ha'  found  it.  I  turned  the  ould  man  upside 
down  at  the  last,  but  he  was  milked  dhry. 
Thin  he  opened  a  door  in  another  passage,  an* 
I  found  myself  up  to  my  knees  in  Benares 
river- water,  an'  bad  smellin*  ut  is.  More  by 
token  I  had  come  out  on  the  river  line  close  to 
the  burnin'-ghat  and  contagious  to  a  cracklin' 
corpse.  This  was  in  the  heart  av  the  night, 
for  I  had  been  four  hours  in  the  temple. 
There  was  a  crowd  av  boats  tied  up,  so  I  tuk 
wan  an*  wint  across  the  river.  Thin  I  came 
home,  lyin'  up  by  day.  " 

*'How  on  earth  did  you  manage?"  I  said. 

**How  did  Sir  Frederick  Roberts  get  from 
Cabul  to  Candahar?  He  marched,  an'  he  niver 
told  how  near  he  was  to  breakin'  down.  That's 
why  he  is  phwat  he  is.  An' now" — Mulvaney 
yawned  portentously — *'now  I  will  go  and  give 
myself  up  for  absince  widout  leave.  It's  eig]^t- 
an'-twenty  days  an'  the  rough  end  of  the  col- 


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.  07 

onel's  tongue  in  orderly-room,  any  way  you 
look  at  ut.     But  'tis  cheap  at  the  price." 

•*Mulvaney,'*  said  I,  softly,  **if  there  hap- 
pens to  be  a-ny  sort  of  excuse  that  the  colonel 
can  in  any  way  accept,  I  have  a  notion  that 
you'll  get  nothing  more  than  the  dressing 
down.     The  new  recruits  are  in,  and — " 

"Not  a  word  more,  sorr.  Is  ut  excuses  the 
ould  man  wants?  'Tis  not  my  way,  but  he 
shall  have  thim. "  And  he  flapped  his  way  to 
cantonments,  singing  lustily: 

"So  they  sent  a  corp'ril's  file, 
And  they  put  me  in  the  guyard  room, 
For  conduck  unbecomin'  of  a  soldier." 

Therewith  he  surrendered  himself  to  the  joy- 
ful and  almost  weeping  guard,  and  was  made 
much  of  by  his  fellows.  But  to  the  colonel  he 
said  that  he  had  been  smitten  with  sunstroke 
and  had  lain  insensible  on  a  villager's  cot  for 
untold  hours,  and  between  laughter  and  good- 
will the  affair  was  smoothed  over,  so  that  he 
could  next  day  teach  the  new  recruits  how  to 
•*fear  God,  honor  the  queen,  shoot  straight, 
and  keep  clean." 


9  Dittiea 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 


^^Ohe  ahmed  din!  Shaft 2  Ullah  alioo!  Baha- 
dur Khan,  where  are  you?  Come  out  of  the 
tents,  as  I  have  done,  and  fight  against  the 
English.  Don't  kill  your  own  kin!  Come 
out  to  me!" 

The  deserter  from  a  native  corps  was  crawl- 
ing round  the  outskirts  of  the  camp,  firing  at 
intervals,  and  shouting  invitations  to  his  old 
comrades.  Misled  by  the  rain  and  the  dark- 
ness, he  came  to  the  English  wing  of  the  camp, 
and  with  his  yelping  and  rifle  practice  dis- 
turbed the  men.  They  had  been  making  roads 
all  day,  and  were  tired 

Ortheris  was  sleeping  at  Learoyd's  feet. 
"Wot's  all  that?"  he  said,  thickly  Learoyd 
snored,  and  a  Snider  bullet  ripped  its  way 
through  the  tent  wall.  The  men  swore.  "It's 
that  bloomin'  deserter  from  the  Aurangaba- 
dis,"  said  Ortheris.  "Git  up,  some  one,  an' 
tell  'em  *e's  come  to  the  wrong  shop." 

"Go  to  sleep,  little  man,"  said  Mulvaney, 
who  was  steaming  nearest  the  door.  "I  can't 
rise  an'  expaytiate  with  him.  *Tis  rainin'  in- 
trenchin'  tools  outside." 

"  'Tain't  because  you  bloomin*  can't.     It's 
cause  you  bloomin'  won't,  ye  long,  limp,  lousy, 
lazy  beggar  you.     'Ark  to  'im  'owling!" 
96 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL.  99 

"Wot's  the  good  of  argyfying?  Put  a  bullet 
into  the  swine!  'E's  keepin'  us  awake!"  said 
another  voice. 

A  subaltern  shouted  angrily,  and  a  dripping 
sentry  whined  from  the  darkness. 

**  'Tain't  no  good,  sir.  I  can't  see  'im.  'E's 
'idin*  somewhere  down  'ill." 

Ortheris  tumbled  out  of  his  blanket.  **  Shall 
I  try  to  get  'im,  sir?"  said  he. 

**No,"  was  the  answer;  **lie  down.  I  won't 
have  the  whole  camp  shooting  all  round  the 
clock.     Tell  him  to  go  and  pot  his  friends." 

Ortheris  considered  for  a  moment.  Then, 
putting  his  head  uader  the  tent  wall,  he  called, 
as  a  'buss  conductor  calls  in  a  block,  **  'Igher 
up,  there!     'Igher  up!" 

The  men  laughed,  and  the  laughter  was  car- 
ried down  wind  to  the  deserter,  who,  hearing 
that  he  had  made  a  mistake,  went  off  to  worry 
his  own  regiment  half  a  mile  away.  He  was 
received  with  shots,  for  the  Aurangabadis  were 
very  angry  with  him  for  disgracing  their  colors. 

*'An'  that's  all  right,"  said  Ortheris,  with- 
drawing his  head  as  he  heard  the  hiccough  of 
the  Sniders  in  the  distance.  *'S'elpme  Gawd, 
tho"  that  man's  not  fit  to  live — messin'  with  my 
beauty-sleep  this  way." 

"Go  out  and  shoot  him  in  the  morning, 
then,"  said  the  subaltern,  incautiously.  "Si- 
lence in  the  tents  now!     Get  your  rest,  men!" 

Ortheris  lay  down  withahappy  little  sigh,  and 
in  two  minutes  there  was  no  sound  except  the 
rain  on  the  canvas  and  the  all-embracing  and 
elemental  snoring  of  Learoyd. 


100  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

The  camp  lay  on  a  bare  ridge  of  the  Himala- 
yas, and  for  a  week  had  been  waiting  for  a  fly- 
ing column  to  make  connection.  The  nightly 
rounds  of  the  deserter  and  his  friends  had  be- 
come a  nuisance. 

In  the  morning  the  men  dried  themselves  in 
hot  sunshine  and  cleaned  their  grimy  accouter- 
ments.  The  native  regiment  was  to  take  its 
turn  of  road-making  that  day  while  the  Old 
Regiment  loafed. 

**rm  goin*  to  lay  fer  a  shot  at  that  man," 
said  Ortheris,  when  he  had  finished  washing 
out  his  rifle.  **  'E  comes  up  the  water-course 
every  evenin*  about  five  o'clock.  If  we  go  and 
lie  out  on  the  north  'ill  a  bit  this  afternoon 
we'll  get  *im. " 

*'You're  a  bloodthirsty  little  mosquito,"  said 
Mulvaney,  blowing  blue  clouds  into  the  air. 
*'But  I  suppose  I  will  have  to  come  wid  you. 
Fwhere's  Jock?" 

**Gone  out  with  the  Mixed  Pickles,  'cause  *e 
thinks  'isself  a  bloomin'  marksman,"  said 
Ortheris,  with  scorn. 

The  "Mixed  Pickles"  were  a  detachment  of 
picked  shots,  generally  employed  in  clearing 
spurs  of  hills  when  the  enemy  were  too  imper- 
tinent. This  taught  the  young  officers  how  to 
handle  men,  and  did  not  do  the  enemy  much 
harm.  Mulvaney  and  Ortheris  strolled  out  of 
camp,  and  passed  the  Aurangabadis  going  to 
their  road-making. 

"You've  got  to  sweat  to-day,"  said  Ortheris 
genially.       "Were   going    to    get   your   man. 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL.  101 

You  didn't  knock  'im  out  last  night  by  any 
chance,  any  of  you?" 

*'No.  The  pig  went  away  mocking  us.  I 
had  one  shot  at  'im, "  said  a  private.  "He's 
my  cousin,  and  I  ought  to  have  cleared  our 
dishonor.      But  good-luck  to  you.  " 

They  went  cautiously  to  the  north  hill, 
Ortheris  leading,  because,  as  he  explained, 
**this  is  a  long-range  show,  an*  I've  got  to  do 
it.**  His  was  an  almost  passionate  devotion  to 
his  rifle,  whom,  by  barrack-room  report,  he 
was  supposed  to  kiss  every  night  before  turn- 
ing in.  Charges  and  scuffles  he  held  in  con- 
tempt, and,  when  they  were  inevitable,  slipped 
between  Mulvaney  and  Learoyd,  bidding  them 
to  fight  for  his  skin  as  well  as  their  own.  They 
never  failed  him.  He  trotted  along,  questing 
like  a  hound  on  a  broken  trail,  through  the 
wood  of  the  north  hill.  At  last  he  was  satisfied, 
and  threw  himself  down  on  the  soft  pine-needle 
slope  that  commanded  a  clear  view  of  the 
water-course  and  a  brown  bare  hillside  beyond 
it.  The  trees  made  a  scented  darkness  in 
which  an  army  corps  could  have  hidden  from 
the  sun-glare  without. 

*'  'Ere'sthe  tail  o'  the  wood,"  said  Ortheris. 
**  *E's  got  to  come  up  the  water-course,  'cause 
it  gives  'im  cover.  We'll  lay  'ere.  'Tain't  not 
*arf  so  bloomin'  dusty  neither." 

He  buried  his  nose  in  a  clump  of  scentless 
white  violets.  No  one  had  come  to  tell  the 
flowers  that  the  season  of  their  strength  was 
long  past,  and  they  had  bloomed  merrily  in 
the  twilight  of  the  pines. 


102  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

*'This  is  something  like,"  he  said,  luxuri- 
ously. "Wot  a  'evinly  clear  drop  for  a  bullet 
acrost.    How  much  d'  you  make  it,  Mulvaney?" 

"Seven  hunder.  Maybe  a  trifle  less,  bekase 
the  air's  so  thin." 

Wop !  wop !  wop !  went  a  volley  of  musketry 
on  the  rear  face  of  the  north  hill. 

"Curse  them  Mixed  Pickles  firin'  at  nothin'I 
They'll  scare  'arf  the  country." 

"Thry  a  sigh  tin'  shot  in  the  middle  of  the 
row,"  said  Mulvaney,  the  man  of  many  wiles. 
"There's  a  red  rock  yonder  he'll  be  sure  to 
pass.     Quick!" 

Ortheris  ran  his  sight  up  to  six  hundred 
yards  and  fired.  The  bullet  threw  up  a  feather 
of  dust  by  a  clump  of  gentians  at  the  base  of 
the  rock. 

"'Good  enough!"  said  Ortheris,  snapping 
the  scale  down.  "You  snick  your  sights  to 
mine,  or  a  little  lower.  You're  always  firin' 
high.  But  remember,  first  shot  to  me.  Oh, 
Lordy,  but  it's  a  lovely  afternoon." 

The  noise  of  the  firing  grew  louder,  and 
there  was  a  tramping  of  men  in  the  wood. 
The  two  lay  very  quiet,  for  they  knew  that  the 
British  soldier  is  desperately  prone  to  fire  at 
anything  that  moves  or  calls.  Then  Learoyd 
appeared,  his  tunic  ripped  across  the  breast  by 
a  bullet,  looking  ashamed  of  himself.  He 
flung  down  on  the  pine-needles,  breathing  in 
snorts. 

"One  o'  them  damned  gardeners  o'  th' 
Pickles,"  said  he,  fingering  the  rent.  "Firin* 
to  th'  right  flank,  when  he  knowed  I  was  there. 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL.  103 

If  I  knew  who  he  was  I'd  a  ripped  the  hide  off 
'un.     Look  at  ma  tunic!" 

"That's  the  spishil  trustability  av  a  marks- 
man. Train  him  to  hit  a  fly  wid  a  stiddy  rest 
at  seven  hunder,  an'  he'll  loose  on  anythin* 
he  sees  or  hears  up  to  th'  mile.  You're  well 
out  av  that  fancy-firin'  gang,  Jock.  Stay 
here." 

"Bin  firin'  at  the  bloomin'  wind  in  the 
bloomin'  treetops,"  said  Ortheris,  with  a 
chuckle.     "I'll  show  you  some  firin'  later  on.*' 

They  wallowed  in  the  pine-needles,  and  the 
sun  warmed  them  where  they  lay.  The  Mixed 
Pickles  ceased  firing  and  returned  to  camp, 
and  left  the  wood  to  a  few  scared  apes.  The 
water-course  lifted  up  its  voice  in  the  silence 
and  talked  foolishly  to  the  rocks.  Now  and 
again  the  dull  thump  of  a  blasting  charge  three 
miles  away  told  that  the  Aurangabadis  were  in 
difficulties  with  their  road-making.  The  men 
smiled  as  they  listened,  and  lay  still  soaking  in 
the  warm  leisure.  Presently  Learoyd,  be- 
tween the  whiffs  of  his  pipe : 

"Seems  queer — about  *im  yonder — desertin* 
at  all." 

"  'E'll  be  a  bloomin*  side  queerer  when  I've 
done  with  'im,**  said  Ortheris.  They  were 
talking  in  whispers,  for  the  stillness  of  the 
wood  and  the  desire  of  slaughter  lay  heavy 
upon  them. 

"I  make  no  doubt  he  had  his  reasons  for 
desertin';  but,  my  faith!  I  make  less  doubt 
ivry  man  has  good  reason  for  killin'  him, "  said 
Mulyaney, 


104  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

"Happen  there  was  a  lass  tewed  up  wi*  it. 
Men  do  more  than  more  for  th'  sake  of  a  lass. " 

"They  make  most  av  us  'list.  They've  no 
manner  av  right  to  make  us  desert." 

"Ah,  they  make  us  'list,  or  their  fathers  do," 
said  Learoyd,  softly,  his  helmet  over  his  eyes. 

Ortheris'  brows  contracted  savagely.  He 
was  watching  the  valley.  "If  it's  a  girl,  I'll 
shoot  the  beggar  twice  over,  an'  second  time 
for  bein'  a  fool.  You're  blasted  sentimental 
all  of  a  sudden.  Thinkin'  o'  your  last  near 
shave?" 

"Nay,  lad;  ah  was  but  thinkin*  o*  what  had 
happened." 

"An'  fwhat  has  happened,  ye  lumberin' 
child  av  calamity,  that  you're  lowing  like  a 
cow-calf  at  the  back  av  the  pasture,  an'  sug- 
gestin*  invidious  excuses  for  the  man  Stanley's 
goin'  to  kill.  Ye'll  have  to  wait  another  hour 
yet,  little  man.  Spit  it  out,  Jock,  an'  bellow 
melojus  to  the  moon.  It  takes  an  earthquake 
or  a  bullet  graze  to  fetch  aught  out  av  you. 
Discourse,  Don  Juan!  The  a-moors  of  Lotha- 
rius  Learoyd.  Stanley,  kape  a  rowlin'  rig'men- 
tal  eye  on  the  valley." 

''It's  along  o'  yon  hill  there,"  said  Learoyd, 
watching  the  bare  sub-Himalayan  spurr  that 
reminded  him  of  his  Yorkshire  moors.  He 
was  speaking  more  to  himself  than  his  fellows. 
"Ay,"  said  he;  "Rumbolds  Moor  stands  up 
ower  Skipton  town,  an'  Greenhow  Hill  stands 
up  ower  Pately  Brigg.  I  reckon  you've  never 
heard  tell  o'  Greenhow  Hill,  but  yon  bit  o* 
bare  stuff,  if  there  was  nobbut  a  white  road 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL.  105 

windin*,  is  like  ut,  strangely  like.  Moors  an* 
moors — moors  wi'  never  a  tree  for  shelter,  an' 
gray  houses  wi'  flag-stone  rooves,  and  pewits 
cryin',  an'  a  windhover  goin'  to  and  fro  just 
like  these  kites.  And  cold!  a  wind  that  cuts 
you  like  a  knife.  You  could  tell  Greenhow 
Hill  folk  by  the  red-apple  color  o'  their  cheeks 
an*  nose-tips,  an'  their  blue  eyes,  driven  into 
pin-points  by  the  wind.  Miners  mostly,  bur- 
rowin'  for  lead  i'  th'  hillsides,  followi'n'  the 
trail  of  th'  ore  vein  same  as  a  field-rat.  It  was 
the  roughest  minin'  I  ever  seen.  You'd  come 
on  a  bit  o'  crackin'  wood  windlass  like  a  well- 
head, an'  you  was  let  down  i'  th'  bight  of  a 
rope,  fendin'  yoursen  off  the  side  wi'  one  hand, 
carryin'  a  candle  stuck  in  a  lump  o'  clay  with 
t'other,  an'  clickin'  hold  of  a  rope  with  t'other 
hand." 

"An'  that's  three  of  them,"  said  Mulvaney. 
**Must  be  a  good  climate  in  those  parts." 

Learoyd  took  no  heed. 

"An'  then  yo'  came  to  a  level,  where  you 
crept  on  your  hand  an'  knees  through  a  mile  o* 
windin'  drift,  an'  you  come  out  into  a  cave- 
place  as  big  as  Leeds  Town-hall,  with  an 
engine  pumpin'  water  from  workin's  'at  went 
deeper  still.  It's  a  queer  country,  let  alone 
minin',  for  the  hill  is  full  of  those  natural 
caves,  an'  the  rivers  an'  the  becks  drops  into 
what  they  call  pot-holes,  an'  come  out  again 
miles  away. " 

"Wot  was  you  doin'  there?"  said  Ortheris. 

**I  was  a  young  chap  then,  an'  mostly  went 
wi'  'osses,  leadin'  coal  and  lead  ore;  but  at  th' 


106  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

time  I'm  tellin*  on  I  was  drivin'  the  wagon 
team  i*  the  big  sumph.  I  didn't  belong  to  that 
countryside  by  rights.  I  went  there  because 
of  a  little  difference  at  home,  an'  at  fust  I  took 
up  wi'  a  rough  lot.  One  night  we'd  been 
drinkin',  and  I  must  hav'  hed  more  than  I 
could  stand,  or  happen  th'  ale  was  none  so 
good.  Though  i'  them  days,  by  for  God,  I 
never  seed  bad  ale."  He  flung  his  arms  over 
his  head  and  gripped  a  vast  handful  of  white 
violets.  "Nah,"  said  he,  "I  never  seed  the 
ale  I  could  not  drink,  the  'bacca  I  could  not 
smoke,  nor  the  lass  I  could  not  kiss.  Well, 
we  mun  have  a  race  home,  the  lot  on  us.  I 
lost  all  th*  others,  an'  when  I  was  climbin* 
ower  one  of  them  walls  built  o'  loose  stones,  I 
comes  down  into  the  ditch,  stones  an'  all,  an' 
broke  my  arm.  Not  as  I  knowed  much  about 
it,  for  I  fell  on  th'  back  o'  my  head,  an'  was 
knocked  stupid  like.  An'  when  I  come  to 
mysen  it  were  mornin',  an'  I  were  lyin*  on 
the  settle  i'  Jesse  Roantree's  house-place,  an* 
'Liza  Roantree  was  settin'  sewin'.  I  ached  all 
ower,  and  my  mouth  were  like  a  lime-kiln. 
She  gave  me  a  drink  out  of  a  china  mug  wi' 
gold  letters — 'A  Present  from  Leeds,* — as  I 
looked  at  many  and  many  a  time  after. 
'You're  to  lie  still  while  Doctor  War  bottom 
comes,  because  your  arm's  broken,  an'  father 
has  sent  a  lad  to  fetch  him.  He  found  yo' 
when  he  was  goin'  to  work,  an*  carried  you 
here  on  his  back,'  sez  she.  *0a!'  sez  I;  an'  I 
shet  my  eyes,  for  I  felt  ashamed  o'  mysen. 
*  Father's  gone  to  his  work  these  three  hours, 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL,  107 

an*  he  said  he'd  tell  'em  to  get  somebody  to 
drive  the  train.'  The  clock  ticked  an*  a  bee 
corned  in  the  house,  an'  they  rung  i'  my  head 
like  mill  wheels.  An'  she  gave  me  another 
drink  an'  settled  the  pillow.  *Eh,  but  yo're 
young  to  be  getten  drunk  an'  such  like,  but 
yo'  won't  do  it  again,  will  yo'?'  'Noa,'  sez  I. 
'I  wouldn't  if  she'd  not  but  stop  they  mill- 
wheels  clatterin'.'  " 

*' Faith,  it's  a  good  thing  to  be  nursed  by  a 
woman  when  you're  sick!"  said  Mulvaney. 
"Dirt  cheap  at  the  price  av  twenty  broken 
heads." 

Ortheris  turned  to  frown  across  the  valley. 
He  had  not  been  nursed  by  many  women  in 
his  life. 

*'An'  then  Doctor  Warbottom  comes  ridin* 
up,  an'  Jesse  Roantree  along  with  'im.  He 
was  a  high-larned  doctor,  but  he  talked  wi* 
poor  folks  same  as  theirsens.  'What's  tha  bin 
agaate  on  naa?'  he  sings  out.  *Brekkin  tha 
thick  head?'  An'  he  felt  me  all  over.  'That's 
none  broken.  Tha'  nobbut  knocked  a  bit 
sillier  than  ordinary,  an'  that's  daafteneai.* 
An'  so  he  went  on,  callin'  me  all  the  names 
he  could  think  on,  but  settin'  my  arm,  wi' 
Jesse's  help,  as  careful  as  could  be.  'Yo'  mun 
let  the  big  oaf  bide  here  a  bit,  Jesse, '  he  says, 
when  he  had  strapped  me  up  an'  given  me  a 
dose  o'  physic;  'an'  you  an'  'Liza  will  tend 
him,  though  he's  scarcelins  worth  the  trouble. 
An'  tha'll  lose  tha  work,'  sez  he,  'an'  tha'll  be 
upon  th'  Sick  Club  for  a  couple  o'  months  an' 
more.     Doesn't  tha  think  tha's  a  fool?'  " 


108  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

**But  whin  was  a  young  man,  high  or  low, 
the  other  av  a  fool,  I'd  like  to  know?"  said 
Mulvaney.  **Sure,  folly's  the  only  safe  way 
to  wisdom,  for  I've  thried  it." 

** Wisdom!"  grinned  Ortheris,  scanning  his 
comrades  with  uplifted  chin.  *' You're 
bloomin'  Solomons,  you   two,  ain't  you?" 

Learoyd  went  calmly  on,  with  a  steady  eye 
like  an  ox  chewing  the  cud.  "And  that  was 
how  I  comed  to  know  'Liza  Roantree.  There's 
some  tunes  as  she  used  to  sing — aw,  she  were 
always  singin* — that  fetches  Greenhow  Hill  be- 
fore my  eyes  as  fair  as  yon  brow  across  there. 
And  she  would  learn  me  to  sing  bass,  an'  I 
was  to  go  to  th'  chapel  wi'  'em,  where  Jesse 
and  she  led  thesingin',  th'  old  man  playin*  the 
fiddle.  He  was  a  strange  chap,  old  Jesse,  fair 
mad  wi*  music,  an'  he  made  me  promise  to 
learn  the  big  fiddle  when  my  arm  was  better. 
It  belonged  to  him,  and  it  stood  up  in  a  bi^ 
case  alongside  o*  th' eight-day  clock,  but  Willie 
Satterthwaite,  as  played  it  in  the  chapel,  had 
getten  deaf  as  a  door-post,  and  it  vexed  Jesse, 
as  he  had  to  rap  him  ower  his  head  wi'  th'  fid- 
dle-stick to  make  him  give  ower  sawin'  at  th* 
right  time. 

*'But  there  was  a  black  drop  in  it  all,  an'  it 
was  a  man  in  a  black  coat  that  brought  it. 
When  th'  Primitive  Methodist  preacher  came 
to  Greenhow,  he  would  always  stop  wi'  Jesse 
Roantree,  an'  he  laid  hold  of  me  from  th*  be- 
ginning. It  seemed  I  wor  a  soul  to  be  saved, 
an'  he  meaned  to  do  it.  At  th'  same  time  I 
jealoused   'at  he   were  keen  o'   savin'  'Liza 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL.  109 

Roantree's  soul  as  well,  an'  I  could  ha'  killed 
him  many  a  time.  An'  this  went  on  till  one 
day  I  broke  out,  an'  borrowed  th'  brass  for  a 
drink  from  'Liza.  After  fower  days  I  come 
back,  wi'  my  tail  between  my  legs,  just  to  see 
'Liza  again.  But  Jesse  were  at  home,  an'  th* 
preacher — th'  Reverend  Amos  Barraclough. 
'Liza  said  naught,  but  a  bit  o*  red  come  into 
her  face  as  were  white  of  a  regular  thing. 
Says  Jesse,  tryin*  his  best  to  be  civil :  'Nay, 
lad,  it's  like  this.  You've  getten  to  choose 
which  way  it's  goin'  to  be.  I'll  ha'  nobody 
across  ma  doorsteps  as  goes  a-drinkin',  an'  bor- 
rows my  lass'  money  to  spend  i'  their  drink. 
Ho'd  tha  tongue,  'Liza,'  sez  he,  when  she 
wanted  to  put  in  a  word  'at  I  were  welcome  to 
th'  brass,  an'  she  were  none  afraid  that  I 
wouldn't  pay  it  back.  Then  the  reverend 
cuts  in,  seein'  as  Jesse  were  losin'  his  temper, 
an'  they  fair  beat  me  among  them.  But  it 
were  'Liza,  as  looked  an'  said  naught,  as  did 
more  than  either  o'  their  tongues,  an'  soa  I 
concluded  to  get  converted." 

*  *  F  what ! ' '  shouted  Mulvaney.  Then,  check- 
ing himself,  he  said,  softly:  "Let  be!  Let  be! 
Sure  the  Blessed  Virgin  is  the  mother  of  all 
religion  an' most  women;  an' there's  a  deal 
av  piety  in  a  girl  if  the  men  would  only  let  it 
stay  there.  I'd  ha'  ben  converted  myself  under 
the  circumstances. ' ' 

*'Nay,  but,"  pursued  Learoyd,  with  a  blush, 
•*I  meaned  it." 

Ortheris  laughed  as  loudly  as  he  dared,  hav- 
ing regard  to  his  business  at  the  time. 


no  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

*'Ay,  Ortheris,  you  may  laugh,  but  you 
didn't  know  yon  preacher  Barraclough — a  lit- 
tle white-faced  chap  wi*  a  voice  as  'ud  wile  a 
bird  off  on  a  bush,  and  a  way  o'  layin*  hold  o' 
folks  as  made  them  think  they'd  never  had  a 
live  man  for  a  friend  before.  You  never  saw 
him,  an' — an'  you  never  seed  'Liza  Roantree — 
never  seed  'Liza  Roantree.  .  .  .  Happen  it 
was  as  much  'Liza  as  th*  preacher  and  her 
father,  but  anyways  they  all  meaned  it,  an'  I 
was  fair  ashamed  o'  mysen,  an'  so  become 
what  they  called  a  changed  character.  And 
when  I  think  on,  it's  hard  to  believe  as  yon 
chap  going  to  prayer-meetin's,  chapel,  and 
class-meetin's  were  me.  But  I  never  had 
naught  to  say  for  mysen,  though  there  was  a 
deal  o'  shoutin',  and  old  Sammy  Strother,  as 
were  almost  clemmed  to  death  and  doubled  up 
with  the  rheumatics,  would  sing  out,  'Joyful! 
joyful!'  and  'at  it  were  better  to  go  up  to 
heaven  in  a  coal-basket  than  down  to  hell  i'  a 
coach  an'  six.  And  he  would  put  his  poor  old 
claw  on  my  shoulder,  sayin' :  'Doesn't  tha  feel 
it,  tha  great  lump?  Doesn't  tha  feel  it?'  An' 
sometimes  I  thought  I  did,  and  then  again  I 
thought  I  didn't,  an'  how  was  that?" 

"The  iverlastin'  nature  av  mankind,**  said 
Mulvaney.  "An',  furthermore,  I  misdoubt 
you  were  built  for  the  Primitive  Methodians. 
They're  a  new  corps  anyways.  I  hold  by  the 
Ould  Church,  for  she's  the  mother  of  them  all 
— ay,  an*  the  father,  too.  I  like  her  bekase 
she's  most  remarkable  regimental  in  her  fit- 
tings.    I  may  die  in  Honolulu,  Nova  Zambra, 


OK  GREENHOW  HILL.  Ill 

or  Cape  Cayenne,  but  wherever  I  die,  me  bein* 
fwat  I  am,  an*  a  priest  handy,  I  go  tinder  the 
same  orders  an'  the  same  words  an'  the  same 
unction  as  tho'  the  pope  himself  come  down 
from  the  dome  av  St.  Peter's  to  see  me  off. 
There's  neither  high  nor  low,  nor  broad  nor 
deep,  not  betwixt  nor  between  with  her,  an' 
that's  what  I  like.  But  mark  you,  she's  no 
manner  av  Church  for  a  wake  man,  bekase  she 
takes  the  body  and  the  soul  av  him,  onless  he 
has  his  proper  work  to  do.  I  remember  when 
my  father  died,  that  was  three  months  comin' 
to  his  grave;  begad  he'd  ha'  sold  the  sheebeen 
above  our  heads  for  ten  minutes'  quittance  of 
pMrgathory.  An'  he  did  all  he  could.  That's 
why  I  say  it  takes  a  strong  man  to  deal  with 
the  Ould  Church,  an'  for  that  reason  you'll  find 
so  many  women  go  there.  An'  that  same's  a 
conundrum." 

"Wot's  the  use  o*  worritin'  'bout  these 
things?"  said  Ortheris.  "You're  bound  to  find 
all  out  quicker  nor  you  want  to,  any'ow."  He 
jerked  the  cartridge  out  of  the  breech-lock  into 
the  palm  of  his  hand.  *'  'Ere's  my  chaplain," 
he  said,  and  made  the  venomous  black-headed 
bullet  bow  like  a  marionette.  "  'E's  goin' 
to  teach  a  man  all  about  which  is  which,  an' 
wot's  true,  after  all,  before  sundown.  But 
wot  'appened  after  that,  Jock?" 

"There  was  one  thing  they  boggled  at,  and 
almost  shut  th'  gate  i'  my  face  for  and  that 
were  my  dog  Blast,  th'  only  one  saved  out  o* 
a  litter  o'  pups  as  was  blowed  up  when  a  keg 
o*  minin'  powder  loosed  off  in  th'  storekeeper's 


112  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

hut.  They  liked  his  name  no  better  than  his 
business,  which  was  fightin'  every  dog  he 
corned  across ;  a  rare  good  dog,  wi'  spots  o'  black 
and  pink  on  his  face,  one  ear  gone,  and  lame 
o'  one  side  wi*  being  driven  in  a  basket 
through  an   iron  roof,  a  matter  of  half  a  mile. 

"They  said  I  mun  give  him  up  'cause  he 
were  worldly  and  low;  and  would  I  let  mysen 
be  shut  out  of  heaven  for  the  sake  of  a  dog? 
*Nay,'  says  I,  *if  th'  door  isn't  wide  enough  for 
th'  pair  on  us,  we'll  stop  outside  or  we'll  none 
be  parted.'  And  th'  preacher  spoke  up  for 
Blast,  as  had  a  likin'  for  him  from  th'  first — I 
reckon  that  was  why  I  come  to  like  th* 
preacher — and  wouldn't  hear  o'  changin'  his 
name  to  Bless,  as  some  o'  them  wanted.  So 
th'  pair  on  us  became  reg'lar  chapel  members. 
But  it's  hard  for  a  young  chap  o'  my  build  to 
cut  tracks  from  the  world,  th'  flesh,  an'  the 
devil  all  av  a  heap.  Yet  I  stuck  to  it  for  a 
long  time,  while  th'  lads  as  used  to  stand  about 
th'  town-end  an'  lean  ower  th'  bridge,  spitting 
into  th'  beck  o'  a  Sunday,  would  call  after  me, 
*Sitha,  Learoyd,  when's  tha  bean  to  preach, 
'cause  we're  comin' to  hear  that.'  *  He'd  tha 
jaw!  He  hasn't  getten  th'  white  choaker  on  th* 
morn,'  another  lad  would  say,  and  I  had  to 
double  my  fists  hard  i'  th'  bottom  of  my  Sun- 
day coat,  and  say  to  mysen,  *If  'twere  Monday 
and  I  warn't  a  member  o'  the  Primitive  Meth- 
odists, I'd  leather  all  th'  lot  of  yond*.*  That 
was  th'  hardest  of  all — to  know  that  I  could 
fight  and  I  mustn't  fight." 

Sympathetic  grunts  from  Mulvaney, 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL.  113 

** So  what  wi'  singin',  practicin*,  and  class 
meetin's,  and  th'  big  fiddle,  as  he  made  me 
take  between  my  knees,  I  spent  a  deal  o'  time 
i'  Jesse  Roantree's  house-place.  But  often  as 
I  was  there,  th'  preacher  fared  to  me  to  go 
oftener,  and  both  th'  old  an'  th'  young  woman 
were  pleased  to  have  him.  He  lived  i'  Pately 
Brigg,  as  were  a  goodish  step  off,  but  he 
come.  I  liked  him  as  well  or  better  as 
any  man  I'd  ever  seen  i'  one  way,  and 
yet  I  hated  him  wi'  all  my  heart  i'  t'  other, 
and  we  watched  each  other  like  cat  and  mouse, 
but  civil  as  you  please,  for  I  was  on  my  best 
behavior,  and  he  was  that  fair  and  open  that 
I  was  bound  to  be  fair  with  him.  Rare  and 
good  company  he  was,  if  I  hadn't  wanted  to 
wring  his  cliver  little  neck  half  of  the  time. 
Often  and  often  when  he  was  goin'  from 
Jesse's  I'd  set  him  a  bit  on  the  road." 

*'See  'im  *ome,  you  mean?"  said  Ortheris. 

**Aye.  It's  a  way  we  have  i'  Yorkshire  o* 
seein'  friends  off.  Yon  was  a  friend  as  I  didn't 
want  to  come  back  and  he  didn't  want  me  to 
come  back  neither,  and  so  we'd  walk  together 
toward  Pately,  and  then  he'd  set  me  back 
again,  and  there  we'd  be  twal  two  i'  o'clock 
the  mornin'  settin'  each  other  to  an'  fro  like  a 
blasted  pair  o'  pendulums  twixt  hill  and  valley, 
long  after  th*  light  had  gone  out  i'  'Liza's 
window,  as  both  on  us  had  been  looking  at, 
pretending  to  watch  the  moon." 

*'Ah!"  broke  in  Mulvaney,  '*ye'd  no  chanst 
against  the  maraudin'  psalm-singer.  They'll 
take  the   airs  and    the    graces,   instid  av  the 

8   Ditties 


114  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

man,  nine  times  out  av  ten,  an'  they  only  find 
the  blunder  later — the  wimmen. " 

*'That's  just  where  yo're  wrong,"  said 
Learoyd,  reddening^  under  the  freckled  tan  of 
his  cheek.  "I  was  th'  first  wi'  Liza  an'  yo'd 
think  that  were  enough.  But  th'  parson  were 
a  steady-gaited  sort  o'  chap  and  Jesse  were 
strong  on  his  side,  and  all  th'  women  i'  the 
congregation  dinned  it  to  'Liza  'at  she  were 
fair  fond  to  take  up  wi'  a  wastrel  ne'er-doweel 
like  me,  as  was  scarcelins  respectable  and  a 
fighting  dog  at  his  heels.  It  was  all  very  well 
for  her  to  be  doing  me  good  and  saving  my  soul, 
but  she  must  mind  as  she  didn't  do  herself 
harm.  They  talk  o'  rich  folk  bein'  stuck  up 
an'  genteel,  but  for  cast-iron  pride  o'  res- 
pectibility,  there's  naught  like  poor  chapel 
folk.  It's  as  cold  as  th'  wind  o'  Greenhow  Hill 
— aye,  and  colder,  for  'twill  never  change. 
And  now  I  come  to  think  on  it  one  of  the 
strangest  things  I  know  is  'at  they  couldn't 
abide  th'  thought  o'  soldiering.  There's  a  vast 
o'  fightin*  i'  th'  Bible,  and  there's  a  deal  of 
Methodists  i'  th'  army;  but  to  hear  chapel- 
folk  talk  yo'd  think  that  solderin'  were  next 
door,  an'  t'other  side,  to  hangin'.  I'  their 
meetin's  all  their  talk  is  o'  fightin'.  When 
Sammy  Strother  were  struk  for  summat  to  say 
in  his  prayers,  he'd  sing  out:  *The  sword  o' 
th'  Lord  and  o*  Gideon.'  They  were  alius  at 
it  about  puttin'  on  th'  whole  armor  o'  right- 
eousness, an'  fightin'  the  good  fight  o'  faith. 
And  then,  atop  o'  't  all,  they  held  a  prayer- 
meetin'  ower  a  young   chap  as  wanted  to  'list, 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL,  115 

and  nearly  deafened  him  till  he  picked  up  his 
hat  and  fair  ran  away.  And  they'd  tell  tales 
in  the  Sunday-school  o'  bad  lads  as  had  been 
thumped  and  brayed  for  bird-nesting  o'  Sun- 
days and  playin*  truant  o'  week-days,  and  how 
they  took  to  wrestlin',  dog-fighting',  rabbit- 
runnin, '  and  drinkin',  till  at  last,  as  if  'twere  a 
hepitaph  on  a  gravestone,  they  damned  him 
across  th'  moors  wi'  it,  an'  then  he  went  and 
'listed  for  a  soldier,  an'  they'd  all  fetch  a  deep 
breath  and  throw  up  their  eyes  like  a  hen 
drinkin'." 

**Fwhy  is  it?"  said  Mulvaney,  bringing  down 
his  hands  on  his  thigh  with  a  crack.  *'In  the 
name  av  God,  fwhy  is  it?  I've  seen  it,  tu. 
They  cheat  an'  they  swindle,  an'  they  lie,  an* 
they  slander,  an'  fifty  things  fifty  times  worse; 
but  the  last  an'  the  worst,  by  their  reckonin', 
is  to  serve  the  Widdy  honest.  It's  like  the 
talk  av  childer — scein'  things  all  round/' 

"Plucky  lot  of  fightin'  good  fights  of  whats- 
ername  they'd  do  if  we  didn't  see  they  had  a 
quiet  place  to  fight  in.  And  such  fightin'  as 
theirs  is!  Cats  on  the  tiles.  T'other  callin' to 
which  to  come  on.  I'd  give  a  month's  pay  to 
get  some  o'  them  broad-backed  beggars  in 
London  sweatin'  through  a  day's  road-makin' 
an'  a  night's  rain.  They'd  carry  on  a  deal 
afterward — same  as  we're  supposed  to  carry 
on.  I've  bin  turned  out  of  a  measly  'arf 
license  pub.  down  Lambeth  way,  full  o'  greasy 
kebmen,  'fore  now,"  said  Ortheris  with  an 
oath. 


116  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

"Maybe  you  were  dhrunk,"  said  Mulvaney, 
soothingly. 

"Worse  nor  that.  The  Forders  were  drunk. 
I  was  wearin'  the  queen's  uniform." 

"I'd  not  particular  thought  to  be  a  soldier  i' 
them  days,"  said  Learoyd,  still  keeping  his  eye 
on  the  bare  hill  opposite,  "but  his  sort  o'talk 
put  it  i*  my  head.  They  was  so  good,  th' 
chapel  folk,  that  they  tumbled  over  t'other 
side.  But  I  stuck  to  it  for  'Liza's  sake, 
specially  as  she  was  learning  me  to  sing  the 
bass  part  in  a  horotorio  as  Jesse  were  getting 
up.  She  sung  like  a  throstle  hersen,  and  we 
had  practisin's  night  after  night  for  a  matter 
of  three  months." 

"I  know  what  a  horotorio  is,"  said  Ortheris, 
pertly.  "It's  a  sort  of  chaplain's  sing-song — 
words  all  out  of  the  Bible,  and  hullabaloojah 
choruses." 

"Most  Greenhow  Hill  folks  played  some  in- 
strument or  t'other,  an'  they  all  sung  so  you 
might  have  heard  them  miles  away,  and  they 
was  so  pleased  wi'  the  noise  they  made  they 
didn't  fair  to  want  anybody  to  listen.  The 
preacher  sung  high  seconds  when  he  wasn't 
playin'  the  flute,  an*  they  set  me,  as  hadn't 
got  far  with  big  fiddle,  again  Willie  Satterth- 
waite,  to  jog  his  elbow  when  he  had  to  get  a' 
gate  playin'.  Old  Jesse  was  happy  if  ever  a 
man  was,  for  he  were  th'  conductor  an'  th*  first 
fiddle  an'  th*  leadin*  singer,  beatin'  time  wi' 
his  fiddle-stick,  till  at  times  he*d  rap  with  it  on 
the  table,  and  cry  out :  *Now,  you  mun  all  stop, 
it's  my   turn.'    And  he'd  face  round  to  his 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL.  117 

front,  fair  sweatin'  wi'  pride,  to  sing  the  tenor 
solos.  But  he  were  grandest  i'  th'  chorus 
waggin*  his  head,  flinging  his  arms  round  like 
a  windmill,  and  singin'  hisself  black  in  the 
face.     A  rare  singer  were  Jesse. 

"Yo*  see,  I  was  not  o'  much  account  wi'  *em 
all  exceptin'  to  Eliza  Roantree,  and  I  had  a 
deal  o'  time  settin'  quiet  at  meeting  and  horo- 
torio  practices  to  hearken  their  talk,  and  if  it 
were  strange  to  me  at  beginnin',  it  got  stranger 
still  at  after,  when  I  was  shut  in,  and  could 
study  what  it  meaned. 

"Just  after  th'  horotorios  come  off,  'Liza, 
as  had  alius  been  weakly  like,  was  took  very 
bad.  I  walked  Doctor  Warbottom's  horse  up 
and  down  a  deal  of  times  while  he  were  inside, 
where  they  wouldn't  let  me  go,  though  I  fair 
ached  to  see  her. 

•'  'She'll  be  better  i'  noo,  lad— better  i'  noo,* 
he  used  to  say.  'Tha  mun  ha*  patience.* 
Then  they  said  if  I  was  quiet  I  might  go  in, 
and  th'  Reverend  Amos  Barraclough  used  to 
read  to  her  lyin'  propped  up  among  th'  pillows. 
Then  she  began  to  mend  a  bit,  and  they  let 
me  carry  her  on  th'  settle,  and  when  it  got 
warm  again  she  went  about  same  as  afore. 
Th'  preacher  and  me  and  Blast  was  a  deal 
together  i'  them  days,  and  i'  one  way  we  was 
rare  good  comrades.  But  I  could  ha'  stretched 
him  time  and  again  with  a  good-will.  I  rnind 
one  day  he  said  he  would  like  to  go  down  into 
th'  bowels  o'  th'  earth,  and  see  how  th'  Lord 
had  builded  th'  framework  o'  the  everlastin' 
hills.     He  was  one  of  them  chaps  as  had  a  gift 


118  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

o'  sayin'  things.     They  rolled  off  the  tip  of  his 
clever    tongue,    same   as    Mulvaney  here,  as 
would  ha'  made  a  rale  good  preacher  if  he  had 
nobbut  given  his  mind  to  it.     I  lent  him  a  suit 
o'  miner's  kit  as  almost  buried  th'  little  man, 
and  his  white  face,  down  i'  th'  coat  collar  and 
hat  flap,  looked  like  the  face  of  a  boggart,  and  " 
he  cowered  down  i'  th'  bottom  o'  the  wagon. 
I  was  drivin'  a  tram  as  led  up  a  bit  of  an  in- 
cline  up  to  th'    cave  where   the  engine  was 
pumpin',  and  where  th'  ore   was  brought  up 
and  put  into  th'  wagons  as  went  down  o'  them- 
selves, me  piittin'  th'  brake  on  and  th'  horses 
a-trottin'  after.     Long  as  it  was  daylight  we 
were  good  friends,  but  when  we  got  fair  into 
th'  dark,  and  could  nobbut  see  th'  day  shinin* 
at  the  hole  like  a  lamp  at  a  street  end,  I  feeled 
downright   wicked.     My  religion   dropped  all 
away  from  me  when  I  looked  back  at  him  as 
were  always  comin'    between  me  and  Eliza. 
The  talk  was  'at  they  were  to  be  wed  when  she 
got  better,  an'  I  couldn't  get  her  to  say  yes  or 
nay  to  it.     He  began  to  sing  a  hymn  in  his 
thin  voice,  and  I  came  out  wi'  a  chorus  that 
was  all  cussin'  an'  swearin'  at  my  horses,  an* 
I  began  to  know  how  I  hated  him.     He  were 
such  a  little  chap,  too.     I  could  drop  him  wi* 
one  hand  down  Garstang's  copperhole — a  place 
where  th'  beck   slithered   ower  th'  edge  on  a 
rock,  and  fell  wi'  a  bit  of  a  whisper  into  a  pit 
as  rope  i*  Greenhow  could  plump." 

Again  Learoyd  rooted  up  the  innocent  vio- 
lets. "Aye,  he  should  see  th*  bowels  o'  th' 
earth  an*  never  naught  else.    I  could  take  him 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL.  119 

a  mile  or  two  along  th'  drift,  and  leave  him 
wi'  his  candle  doused  to  cry  hallelujah,  wi* 
none  to  hear  him  and  say  amen.  I  was  to  lead 
him  down  the  ladderway  to  th'  drift  where 
Jesse  Roantree  was  workin',  and  why  shouldn't 
he  slip  on  th'  ladder,  wi'  my  feet  on  his  fingers 
till  they  loosed  grip,  and  I  put  him  down  wi* 
my  heel?  If  I  went  fust  down  th'  ladder,  I 
could  click  hold  on  him  and  chuck  him  over  my 
head,  so  as  he  should  go  squashin'  down  the 
shaft,  breakin'  his  bones  at  ev'ry  timbering  as 
Bill  Appleton  did  when  he  was  fresh,  and 
hadn't  a  bone  left  when  he  brought  to  th'  bot- 
tom. Niver  a  blasted  leg  to  walk  from  Pately. 
Niver  'an  ar  to  put  round  'Liza  Roantree's 
waist.     Niver  no  more — niver  no  more. " 

The  thick  lips  curled  back  over  the  yellow 
teeth,  and  that  flushed  face  was  not  pretty  to 
look  upon.  Mulvaney  nodded  sympathy,  and 
OrtheriG,  moved  by  his  comrade's  passion, 
jrought  up  the  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  and 
searched  the  hillsides  for  his  quarry,  mutter- 
ing ribaldry  about  a  sparrow,  a  spout,  and  a 
thunder-storm.  The  voice  of  the  water-course 
supplied  the  necessary  small-talk  till  Learoyd 
picked  up  his  story. 

"But  it's  none  so  easy  to  kill  a  man  like  you. 
When  I'd  give  up  my  horses  to  th*  lad  as  took 
my  place,  and  I  was  showin'  th'  preacher  th* 
workin's,  shoutin'  into  his  ear  across  th'  clang 
o'  th*  pumpin'  engines,  I  saw  he  was  afraid  o' 
naught;  and  when  the  lamp-light  showed  his 
black  eyes,  I  could  feel  as  he  was  masterin* 
me  again.     I  were  no  better  nor  Blast  chained 


120  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

up  short   and   growlin'  i'    the  depths  of  him 
while  a  strange  dog  went  safe  past. 

'*  'Th'art  a  coward  and  a  fool,'  I  said  to 
mysen;  an'  wrestled  i'  my  mind  again*  him 
till,  when  we  come  to  Garstang's  copper-hole, 
I  laid  hold  o'  the  preacher  and  lifted  him  up 
over  my  head  and  held  him  into  the  darkest 
on  it.  *Now,  lad,'  I  says,  'it's  to  be  one  or 
t'other  on  us — thee  or  me — for  'Liza  Roantree. 
Why,  isn't  thee  afraid  for  thysen?'  I  says,  for 
he  were  still  i'  my  arms  as  a  sack.  'Nay;  I'm 
but  afraid  for  thee,  my  poor  lad,  as  knows 
naught,'  says  he.  I  set  him  down  on  th'  edge, 
an'  th'  beck  run  stiller,  an'  there  was  no  more 
buzzin'  in  my  head  like  when  th'  bee  come 
through  th'  window  o'  Jesse's  house.  *What 
dost  tha  mean?'  says  I. 

**  'I've  often  thought  as  thou  ought  to 
know,'  says  he,  *buc  'twas  hard  to  tell  theeo 
'Liza  Roantree's  for  neither  ou  us,  nor  for 
nobody  o'  this  earth.  Doctor  Warbottom  says 
—and  he  knows  her,  and  her  mother  before 
her — that  she  is  in  a  decline,  and  she  cannot 
live  six  months  longer.  He's  known  it  for 
many  a  day.  Steady,  John!  Steady!'  says 
he.  And  that  weak  little  man  pulled  me  fur- 
ther back  and  set  me  again'  him,  and  talked  it 
all  over  quiet  and  still,  me  turnin'  a  bunch  'o 
candles  in  my  hand,  and  counting  them  ower 
and  ower  again  as  I  listened.  A  deal  on  it 
were  th'  regular  preachin'  talk,  but  there 
were  a  vast  lot  as  made  me  begin  to  think  as 
he  were  more  of  a  man  than  I'd  ever  given 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL.  121 

him  credit  for,  till  I  were  cut  as  deep  for  him 
as  I  were  for  mysen. 

**Six  candles  we  had,  and  we  crawled  and 
climbed  all  that  day  while  they  lasted,  and  I 
said  to  mysen:  *  'Liza  Roantree  hasn't  six 
months  to  live. '  And  when  we  came  into  th' 
daylight  again  we  were  like  dead  men  to  look 
at,  an'  Blast  come  behind  us  without  so  much 
as  waggin'  his  tail.  When  I  saw  'Liza  again 
she  looked  at  me  a  minute  and  says:  *  Who's 
telled  tha?  For  I  see  tha  knows. '  And  she 
tried  to  smile  as  she  kissed  me,  and  I  fair  broke 
down. 

•'You  see,  I  was  a  young  chap  i'  them  days, 
and  had  seen  naught  o'  life,  let  alone  death, 
as  is  alius  a-waitin*.  She  telled  me  as  Doctor 
Warbottom  said  as  Greenhow  air  was  too 
keen,  and  they  were  goin*  to  Bradford,  to 
Jesse's  brother  David,  as  worked  i'  a  mill,  and 
I  mun  hold  up  like  a  man  and  a  Christian,  and 
she'd  pray  for  me  well;  and  they  went  away, 
and  the  preacher  that  same  back  end  o*  the 
year  were  appointed  to  another  circuit,  as  they 
call  it,  and  I  were  left  alone  on  Greenhow  HilL 

*'I  tried,  and  I  tried  hard,  to  stick  to  th* 
chapel,  but  'tweren't  th'  same  thing  at  all 
after.  I  hadn't  'Liza's  voice  to  follow  i*  th* 
singin*,  nor  her  eyes  a-shinin*  acrost  their 
heads.  And  i'  th'  class-meetings  they  said  as 
I  mun  have  some  experiences  to  tell,  and  I 
hadn't  a  word  to  say  for  mysen. 

*' Blast  and  me  moped  a  good  deal,  and  hap- 
pen we  didn't  behave  ourselves  over  well,  for 
they  dropped  us,  and  wondered  however  they'd 


122  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

come  to  take  us  up.  I  can't  tell  how  we  got 
through  th*  time,  while  i'  th'  winter  I  gave  up 
my  job  and  went  to  Bradford.  Old  Jesse  were 
at  th'  door  o'  th'  house,  in  a  long  street  o'  lit- 
tle houses.  He'd  been  sendin'  th'  children, 
'way  as  were  clatterin'  their  clogs  in  th'  case- 
way,  for  she  were  asleep. 

**  *Is  it  thee?'  he  says;  'but  you're  not  to  see 
her.  I'll  none  have  her  wakened  for  a  nowt 
like  thee.  She's  goin'  fast,  and  she  mun  go  in 
peace.  Thou  it  never  be  good  for  naught  i' 
th'  world,  and  as  long  as  thou  lives  thou'll 
never  play  the  big  fiddle.  Get  away,  lad,  get 
away!'     So  he  shut  the  door  softly  i'  my  face. 

*' Nobody  never  made  Jesse  my  master,  but 
it  seemed  to  me  he  was  about  right,  an'  I  went 
away  into  the  town  and  knocked  up  against  a 
recruiting  sergeant.  The  old  tales  o'  th* 
chapel  folk  came  buzzin'  into  my  head.  I  was 
to  get  away,  and  this  were  th'  regular  road  for 
the  likes  o'  me.  I  'listed  there  an'  then,  took 
th*  Widow's  shillin',  and  had  a  bunch  o'  rib- 
bons pinned  i'  my  hat. 

*'But  next  day  I  found  my  way  to  David 
Roantree's  door,  and  Jesse  came  to  open  it. 
Says  he:  'Thou's  come  back  again  wi'  th* 
devil's  colors  flyin' — thy  true  colors,  as  I 
always  telled  thee. ' 

*'But  I  begged  and  prayed  of  him  to  let  me 
see  her  nobbut  to  say  good-by,  till  a  woman 
calls  down  th'  stairway — she  says,  *John  Lea- 
royd's  to  come  up.'  Th' old  man  shift  aside 
in  a  flash,  and  lays  his  hand  on  my  arm,  quite 
gentle  like.     *But  thou'lt  be  quiet,  John/  says 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL.  123 

he,  'for  she's  rare  and  weak.     Thou  wast  alius 
a  good  lad. ' 

"Her  eyes  were  alive  wi'  light,  and  her  hair 
was  thick  on  the  pillow  round  her,  but  her 
cheeks  were  thin — thin  to  frighten  a  man 
that's  strong.  'Nay,  father,  yo*  mayn't  say 
th'  devil's  colors.  Them  ribbons  is  pretty.' 
An'  she  held  out  her  hands  for  th'  hat,  an'  she 
put  all  straight  as  a  woman  will  wi'  ribbons. 
•Nay,  but  what  they're  pretty,'  she  says. 
*Eh,  but  I'd  ha'  liked  to  see  thee  i'  thy  red 
coat,  John,  for  thou  wast  alius  my  own  lad — my 
very  own  lad,  and  none  else.* 

"She  lifted  up  her  arms,  and  they  came 
round  my  neck  i*  a  gentle  grip,  and  they 
slacked  away,  and  she  seemed  fainting.  *Now 
yo'  mun  get  away,  lad,'  says  Jesse,  and  I 
picked  up  my  hat  and  I  came  downstairs. 

**Th'  recruiting  sergeant  were  waitin'  for  me 
at  th'  corner  public-house.  *Yo've  sen  your 
sweetheart?'  says  he.  *Yes,  I've  seen  her,' 
says  L  *Well,  we'll  have  a  quart  now,  and 
you'll  do  your  best  to  forget  her,'  says  he, 
bein'  one  o'  them  smart,  bustlin*  chaps.  *Aye, 
sergeant,'  says  I.  'Forget  her.'  And  I've 
been  forgettin'  her  ever  since." 

He  threw  away  the  wilted  clump  of  white 
violets  as  he  spoke.  Ortheris  suddenly  rose  to 
his  knees,  his  rifle  at  his  shoulder,  and  peered 
across  the  valley  in  the  clear  afternoon  light. 
His  chin  cuddled  the  stock,  and  there  was  a 
twitching  of  the  muscles  of  the  right  cheek  as 
he    sighted.     Private    Stanley    Ortheris    was 


124  ON  GREENHOW  HILL. 

engaged  on  his  business.  A  speck  of  white 
crawled  up  the  water-course. 

**See  that  beggar?     Got  'im." 

Seven  hundred  yards  away  and  a  full  two 
hundred  down  the  hillside,  the  deserter  of  the 
Aurangabadis  pitched  forward,  rolled  down  a 
red  rock,  and  lay  very  still,  with  his  face  in  a 
clump  of  blue  gentians,  while  a  big  raven 
flapped  out  of  the  pine  wood  to  make  investi- 
gation. 

"That's  a  clean  shot,  little  man,"  said  Mul- 
vaney. 

Learoyd  thoughtfully  watched  the  smoke 
clear  away. 

*' Happen  there  was  a  lass  tewed  up  wi*  him, 
too,"  said  he.  Ortheris  did  not  reply.  He 
was  staring  across  the  valley,  with  the  smile  of 
the  artist  who  looks  on  the  completed  work. 
For  he  saw  that  it  was  good. 


BIMI. 

The  orang-outang  in  the  big  iron  cage  lashed 
to  the  sheep-pen  began  the  discussion.  The 
night  was  stifiingly  hot,and  as  Hans  Breitmann 
and  I  passed  him,  dragging  our  bedding  to  the 
fore-peak  of  the  steamer,  he  roused  himself 
and  chattered  obscenely.  He  had  been  caught 
somewhere  in  the  Malayan  Archipelago,  and 
was  going  to  England  to  be  exhibited  at  a  shil- 
ling a  head.  For  four  days  he  had  struggled, 
yelled,  and  wrenched  at  the  heavy  iron  bars  of 
his  prison  without  ceasing,  and  had  nearly  slain 
a  Lascar  incautious  enough  to  come  within 
reach  of  the  great  hairy  paw. 

*'It  would  be  well  for  you,  mine  friend,  if 
you  was  a  liddle  seasick,"  said  Hans  Breit- 
mann, pausing  by  the  cage.  "You  haf  too 
much  Ego  in  your  Cosmos." 

The  orang-outang's  arm  slid  out  negligently 
from  between  the  bars.  No  one  would  have 
believed  that  it  would  make  a  sudden  snake- 
like rush  at  the  German's  breast.  The  thin 
silk  of  the  sleeping-suit  tore  out :  Hans  stepped 
back  unconcernedly,  to  pluck  a  banana  from  a 
bunch  hanging  close  to  one  of  the  boats. 

"Too  much  Ego,"  said  he,  peeling  the  fruit 
and  offering  it  to   the  caged  devil,  who  was 
rending  the  silk  to  tatters. 
125 


126  BIMi. 

Then  we  laid  out  our  bedding  in  the  bows, 
among  the  sleeping  Lascars,  to  catch  any 
breeze  that  the  pace  of  the  ship  might  give  us. 
The  sea  was  like  smoky  oil,  except  wh^re  it 
turned  to  fire  under  our  forefoot  and  whirled 
back  into  the  dark  in  smears  of  dull  flame. 
There  was  a  thunder-storm  some  miles  away; 
we  could  see  the  glimmer  of  the  lightning. 
The  ship's  cow,  distressed  by  the  heat  and  the 
smell  of  the  ape-beast  in  the  cage,  lowed  un- 
happily from  time  to  time  in  exactly  the  same 
key  as  the  lookout  man  at  the  bows  answered 
the  hourly  call  from  the  bridge.  The  tramp- 
ling tune  of  the  engines  was  very  distinct,  and 
the  jarring  of  the  ash-lift,  as  it  was  tipped  into 
the  sea,  hurt  the  procession  of  hushed  noise. 
Hans  lay  down  by  my  side  and  lighted  a 
good-night  cigar.  This  was  naturally  the  be- 
ginning of  conversation.  He  owned  a  voice  as 
soothing  as  the  wash  of  the  sea,  and  stores  of 
experiences  as  vast  as  the  sea  itself ;  for  his 
business  in  life  was  to  wander  up  and  down 
the  world,  collecting  orchids  and  wild  beasts 
and  ethnological  specimens  for  German  and 
American  dealers.  I  watched  the  glowing  end 
of  his  cigar  wax  and  wane  in  the  gloom,  as  the 
sentences  rose  and  fell,  till  I  was  nearly  asleep. 
The  orang-outang,  troubled  by  some  dream 
of  the  forests  of  his  freedom,  began  to  yell  like 
a  soul  in  purgatory,  and  to  wrench  madly  at 
the  bars  of  the  cage. 

*'If  he  was  out  now  dere  would  not  be  much 
of  us  left,  hereabouts,"  said  Hans  lazily.   *'He 


BiMt.  12t 

screams  gfood.     See,   now,   how  I  shall   tame 
mm  when  he  stops  himself." 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  outcry,  and  from 
Hans'  mouth  came  an  imitation  of  a  snake's 
his3,  so  perfect  that  I  almost  sprung  to  my 
feet.  The  sustained  murderous  sound  ran 
along  the  deck,  and  the  wrenching  at  the  bars 
ceased.  The  orang-outang  was  quaking  in  an 
ecstasy  of  pure  terror. 

;*Dot  stop  him,"  said  Hans.  ♦'!  learned  dot 
tnck  m  Mogoung  Tanjong  when  I  was  collect- 
ing liddle  monkeys  for  some  peoples  in  Berlin. 
Efery  one  in  der  world  is  afraid  of  der  mon- 
keys—except der  snake.  So  I  blay  snake 
agamst  monkey,  and  he  keep  quite  still.  Dere 
was  too  much  Ego  in  his  Cosmos.  Dot  is 
der  soul-custom  of  monkeys.  Are  you  asleep 
or  will  you  listen,  and  I  will  tell  a  dale  dot  you 
shall  not  pelief?" 

**There's  no  tale  in  the  wide  world  that  I 
can't  believe, "  I  said. 

**If  you  have  learned  pelief  you  haf  learned 
somedmgs.  Now  I  shall  try  your  pelief. 
Good!  When  I  was  collecting  dose  liddle 
monkeys— it  was  in  '79  or  'So,  und  I  was  in 
der  islands  of  der  Archipelago— -over  dere  in 
der  dark"— he  pointed  southward  to  New 
Gumea  generally —  "  Mein  Gott!  I  would 
sooner  collect  life  red  devils  than  liddle 
monkeys.  When  dey  do  not  bite  off  your 
thumbs  der  are  always  dying  from  nostalgia— 
home-sick— for  dey  haf  der  imperfect  soul, 
which  is  midway  arrested  in  defelopment— und 
too  much  Ego.     I  was  dere  for  nearly  a  year, 


128  BIMI. 

und  dere  I  found  a  man  dot  was  called  Bert- 
ran.  He  was  a  Frenchman,  und  he  was  a  goot 
man — naturalist  to  the  bone.  Dey  said  he  was 
an  escaped  convict,  but  he  was  a  naturalist, 
und  dot  was  enough  for  me.  He  would  call 
all  her  life  beasts  from  der  forest,  und  dey 
would  come.  I  said  he  was  St.  Francis  of 
Assisi  in  a  new  dransmigration  produced,  und 
he  laughed  und  said  he  haf  never  preach  to 
der  fishes.  He  sold  them  for  tripang — beche- 
de-mer. 

"Und  dot  man,  who  was  king  of  beasts- 
tamer  men,  he  had  in  der  house  shush  such 
anoder  as  dot  devil-animal  in  der  cage — a  great 
orang-outang  dot  thought  he  was  a  man.  He 
haf  found  him  when  he  was  a  child — der  orang- 
outang— und  he  was  child  and  brother  and 
opera  comique  all  round  to  Bertran.  He  had 
his  room  in  dot  house — not  a  cage,  but  a  room 
— mit  a  bed  and  sheets,  and  he  would  go  to  bed 
and  get  up  in  der  morning  and  smoke  his  cigar 
und  eat  his  dinner  mit  Bertran,  und  walk  mit 
him  hand-in-hand,  which  was  most  horrible. 
HerrGott!  I  haf  seen  dot  beast  throw  him- 
self back  in  his  chair  and  laugh  when  Bertran 
haf  made  fun  of  me.  He  was  not  a  beast;  he 
was  a  man,  and  he  talked  to  Bertran,  und 
Bertran  comprehended,  for  I  have  seen  dem. 
Und  he  was  always  politeful  to  me  except 
when  I  talk  too  long  to  Bertran  und  say  nod- 
dings  at  all  to  him.  Den  he  would  pull  me 
awa — dis  great,  dark  devil,  mit  his  enormous 
paws — shush  as  if  I  was  a  child.  He  was  not 
a  beast,  he  was  a  man.     Dis  I  saw  pefore  I 


BIMI.  129 

know  him  three  months,  tmd  Bertran  he  haf 
saw  the  same;  and  Bimi,  der  orang-outang, 
haf  understood  us  both,  mit  his  cigar  between 
his  big-dog  teeth  und  der  blue  gum. 

"I  was  dere  a  year,  dere  und  at  der  oder 
islands— somedimes  for  monkeys  and  some- 
dimes  for  butterflies  and  orchits.  One  time 
Bertran  say  to  me  dot  he  will  be  married, 
because  he  haf  found  a  girl  dot  was  goot, 
and  he  inquire  if  this  marrying  idea  was  right. 
I  would  not  say,  pecause  it  was  not  me  dot 
was  going  to  be  married.  Den  he  go  off  court- 
ing der  girl — she  was  a  half-caste  French  girl 
—very  pretty.  Haf  you  got  a  new  light  for 
my  cigar?  Oof!  Very  pretty.  Only  I  say: 
Haf  you  thought  of  Bimi?  If  he  pulls  me 
away  when  I  talk  to  you,  what  will  he  do  to 
your  wife?  He  will  pull  her  in  pieces.  If  I 
was  you,  Bertran,  I  would  gif  my  wife  for  wed- 
ding present  der  stuff  figure  of  Bimi. '  By  dot 
time  I  had  learned  somedings  about  der  mon- 
key peoples.  *Shoot  him?' says  Bertran.  *He 
is  your  beast,'  I  said;  'if  he  was  mine  he  would 
be  shot  now.  * 

*'Den  I  felt  at  der  back  of  my  neck  der  fin- 
gers of  Bimi.  Mein  Gott!  I  tell  you  dot  he 
talked  through  dose  fingers.  It  was  der  deaf- 
and-dumb  alphabet  all  gomplete.  He  slide  his 
hairy  arm  round  my  neck,  and  he  tilt  up  my 
chin  und  look  into  my  face,  shust  to  see  if  I 
understood  his  talk  so  well  as  he  understood 
mine. 

**  *See  now  dere!'  says  Bertran,   *und  you 

9  Ditties 


130  BiMI. 

would  shoot  him  while  he  Is  cuddling  you? 
Dot  is  der  Teuton  ingrate!* 

**But  I  knew  dot  I  had  made  Bimi  a  life's 
enemy,  pecause  his  fingers  haf  talk  murder 
through  the  back  of  my  neck.  Next  dime  I 
see  Bimi  dere  was  a  pistol  in  my  belt,  und  he 
touch  it  once,  and  I  open  der  breech  to  show 
him  it  was  loaded.  He  haf  seen  der  liddle 
monkeys  killed  in  der  woods,  and  he  understood. 

**So  Bertran  he  was  married,  and  he  forgot 
clean  about  Bimi  dot  was  skippin'  alone  on  der 
beach  mit  der  half  of  a  human  soul  in  his  belly. 
I  was  see  him  skip,  und  he  took  a  big  bough  und 
thrash  der  sand  till  he  haf  made  a  great  hole 
like  a  grave.  So  I  says  to  Bertran:  *For  any 
sakes,  kill  Bimi.     He  is  mad  mit  der  jealousy. ' 

*' Bertran  haf  said;  'He  is  not  mad  at  all. 
He  haf  obey  and  love  my  wife,  und  if  she 
speaks  he  will  get  her  slippers,'  und  he  looked 
at  his  wife  across  der  room.  She  was  a  very 
pretty  girl. 

*'Den  I  said  to  him:  *  Dost  thou  pretend  to 
know  monkeys  und  dis  beast  dot  is  lashing 
himself  mad  upon  der  sands,  pecause  you  do 
not  talk  to  him?  Shoot  him  when  he  comes  to 
der  house,  for  he  haf  der  light  in  his  eyes  dot 
means  killing — und  killing. '  Bimi  come  to  der 
house,  but  dere  was  no  light  in  his  eyes.  It 
was  all  put  away,  cunning — so  cunning — und 
he  fetch  der  girl  her  slippers,  and  Bertran  turn 
tome  und  say:  'Dost  thou  know  him  in  nine 
months  more  dan  1  haf  known  him  in  twelve 
years?     Shall  a  child  stab  his  fader?     I  have  fed 


BIMI.  131 

him,  und  he  was  my  child.  Do  not  speak  this 
nonsense  to  my  wife  or  to  me  any  more.  * 

**Dot  next  day  Bertran  came  to  my  house  to 
help  me  make  some  wood  cases  for  der  speci- 
mens, und  he  tell  me  dot  he  haf  left  his  wife  a 
liddle  while  mit  Bimi  in  der  garden.  Den  I 
finish  my  cases  quick,  und  I  say:  'Let  us  go  to 
your  house  und  get  a  trink. '  He  laugh  und 
say:  *Come  along,  dry  mans.* 

'*His  wife  was  not  in  der  garden,  und  Bimi 
did  not  come  when  Bertran  called.  Und  his 
wife  did  not  come  when  he  called,  und  he 
knocked  at  her  bedroom  door  und  dot  was  shut 
tight — locked.  Den  he  look  at  me,  und  his 
face  was  white.  I  broke  down  her  door  mit 
my  shoulder,  und  der  thatch  of  der  roof  was 
torn  into  a  great  hole,  und  der  sun  came  in 
upon  der  floor.  Haf  you  ever  seen  paper  in 
der  waste-basket,  or  cards  at  whist  on  der  table 
scattered?  Dere  was  no  wife  dot  could  be  seen. 
I  tell  you  dere  was  noddings  in  dot  room  dot 
might  be  a  woman.  Dere  was  stuff  on  der 
floor,  und  dot  was  all.  I  looked  at  dese  things 
und  I  was  very  sick;  but  Bertran  looked  a 
liddle  longer  at  what  was  upon  the  floor  und 
der  walls,  und  der  hole  in  der  thatch.  Den  he 
pe^an  to  laugh,  soft  and  low,  und  I  knew  und 
thank  Gott  dot  he  was  mad.  He  nefer  cried, 
he  nefer  prayed.  He  stood  still  in  der  doorway 
und  laugh  to  himself.  Den  he  said:  'She  haf 
locked  herself  in  dis  room,  and  he  haf  torn  up 
der  thatch.  Fi  done.  Dot  is  so.  We  will 
mend  der  thatch  und  wait  for  Bimi.  He  will 
surely  come. ' 


132  BIMt. 

**I  tell  you  we  waited  ten  days  in  dot  house. 
after  der  room  was  made  into  a  room  again, 
and  once  or  twice  we  saw  Bimi  comin*  a  liddle 
way  from  der  woods.  He  was  afraid  pecause 
he  haf  done  wrong.  Bertran  called  him  when 
he  was  come  to  look  on  the  tenth  day,  und  Bimi 
come  skipping  along  der  beach  und  making 
noises,  mit  a  long  piece  of  black  hair  in  his 
hands.  Den  Bertran  laugh  and  say,  ^Fi  done!* 
shust  as  if  it  was  a  glass  broken  upon  der  table ; 
•und  Bimi  come  nearer,  und  Bertran  was 
honey-sweet  in  his  voice  and  laughed  to  him- 
self. For  three  days  he  made  love  to  Bimi, 
pecause  Bimi  would  not  let  himself  be  touched. 
Den  Bimi  come  to  dinner  at  der  same  table  mit 
us,  und  der  hair  on  his  hands  was  all  black  und 
thick  mit — mit  what  had  dried  on  his  hands. 
Bertran  gave  him  sangaree  till  Bimi  was  drunk 
and  stupid,  und  den 

Hans  paused  to  puff  at  his  cigar. 

*'And  then?"  said  I. 

*'Und  den  Bertran  kill  him  with  his  hands, 
und  I  go  for  a  walk  upon  der  beach.  It  was 
Bertran's  own  piziness.  When  I  come  back 
der  ape  he  was  dead,  und  Bertran  he  was  dying 
abofe  him ;  but  still  he  laughed  a  liddle  und 
low,  and  he  was  quite  content.  Now  you  know 
der  formula  of  der  strength  of  der  orang-outang 
— it  is  more  as  seven  to  one  in  relation  to  man. 
But  Bertran,  he  haf  killed  Bimi  mit  sooch 
dings  as  Gott  gif  him.     Dot  was  der  mericle." 

The  infernal  clamor  in  the  cage  recom- 
menced. **Aha!  Dot  friend  of  ours  haf  still 
too  much  Ego  in  his  Cosmos.     Be  quiet,  thou!" 


BIMI.  133 

Hans  hissed  long  and  venomously.  We  could 
hear  the  great  beast  quaking  in  his  cage. 

"But  why  in  the  world  didn't  5"ou  help  Bert- 
ran  instead  of  letting  him  be  killed?"    I  asked. 

*'My  friend, "  said  Hans,  composedly  stretch- 
ing himself  to  slumber,  '*it  was  not  nice  even 
to  mineself  dot  I  should  lif  after  I  had  seen  dot 
room  wit  der  hole  in  der  thatch.  Und  Bert- 
ran,  he  was  her  husband.  Goot-night,  und 
sleep  well.** 


NAMGAY  DOOLA. 


Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  king  who  lived 
on  the  road  to  Thibet,  very  many  miles  in  the 
Himalaya  Mountains.  His  kingdom  was  1 1 ,000 
feet  above  the  sea,  and  exactly  four  miles 
square,  but  most  of  the  miles  stood  on  end, 
owing  to  the  nature  of  the  country.  His  rev- 
enues were  rather  less  than  ;^4oo  yearly,  and 
they  were  expended  on  the  maintenance  of  one 
elephant  and  a  standing  army  of  five  men.  He 
was  tributary  to  the  Indian  government,  who 
allowed  him  certain  sums  for  keeping  a 
section  of  the  Himalaya-Thibet  road  in  repair. 
He  further  increased  his  revenues  by  selling 
timber  to  the  railway  companies,  for  he  would 
cut  the  great  deodar  trees  in  his  own  forest  and 
they  fell  thundering  into  the  Sutlej  River  and 
were  swept  down  to  the  Plains,  300  miles  away, 
and  became  railway  ties.  Now  and  again  this 
king,  whose  name  does  not  matter,  would 
mount  a  ring-streaked  horse  and  ride  scores  ©f 
miles  to  Simlatown  to  confer  with  the  lieuten- 
ant-governor on  matters  of  state,  or  assure  the 
viceroy  that  his  sword  was  at  the  service  of  the 
queen-empress.  Then  the  viceroy  would  cause 
a  ruffle  of  drums  to  be  sounded  and  the  ring- 
streaked  horse  and  the  cavalry  of  the  state — 
134 


NAMGAY   DOOLA.  135 

two  men  in  tatters— and  the  herald  who  bore 
the  Silver  Stick  before  the  king  would  trot  back 
to  their  own  place,  which  was  between  the  tail 
of  a  heaven-climbing  glacier  and  a  dark  birch 

forest.  ,  ,      . 

Now,  from  such  a  king,  always  remembermg 
that  he  possessed  one  veritable  elephant  and 
could  count  his  descent  for  1,200  years  I 
expected,  when  it  was  my  fate  to  wander 
through  his  dominions,  no  more  than  mere 
license  to  live. 

The  night  had  closed  in   ram,    and  rolling 
clouds  blotted  out  the  lights  of  the  villages  in 
the  valley.       Forty  miles  away,  untouched  by 
cloud  or  storm,  the  white  shoulder  of  Dongol 
Pa— the  T^Iountain  of  the  Council  of  the  Gods; 
^upheld  the  evening  star.     The  monkeys  sung 
sorrowfully  to  each  other  as  they  hunted  for 
dry  roots  in  the  fern-draped  trees,  and  the  last 
puff  of  the  day-wind  brought  from  the  ^mseen 
villacres  the  scent  of  damp  wood  smoke,  hot 
cakes,  dripping  undergrowth,  and  rotting  pine- 
cones.      That   smell   is   the  true  smell  of  the 
Himalayas,  and  if  it  once  gets  into  the  blood 
of  a  man  he  will,  at  the  last,  forgetting  every- 
thing  else,   return  to  the  Hills   to   die.       ine 
clouds  closed   and   the   smell  went  away,  and 
there  remained  nothing  in  all  the  world  except 
chilling  white  mists  and  the  boom  of  the  butle) 
River.  ^  ^     ,. 

A  fat-tailed  sheep,  who  did  not  want  to  die, 
bleated  lamentably  at  my  tent-door.  He  was 
scuffling  with  the  prime  minister  and  the  direc- 
tor-general of  public  education,  and  he  was  4 


136  NAMGAY  DOOLA. 

royal  gift  to  me  and  my  camp  servants.  1 
expressed  my  thanks  suitably  and  inquired  if  I 
might  have  audience  of  the  king.  The  prime 
minister  re-adjusted  his  turban — it  had  fallen 
off  in  the  struggle — and  assured  me  that  the 
king  would  be  very  pleased  to  see  me.  There- 
fore I  dispatched  two  bottles  as  a  foretaste,  and 
when  the  sheep  had  entered  upon  another 
incarnation,  climbed  up  to  the  king's  palace 
through  the  wet.  He  had  sent  his  army  to 
escort  me,  but  it  stayed  to  talk  with  my  cook. 
Soldiers  are  very  much  alike  all  the  world 
over. 

The  palace  was  a  four-roomed,  white-washed 
mud-and-timber  house,  the  finest  in  all  the 
Hills  for  a  day's  journey.  The  king  was 
dressed  in  a  purple  velvet  jacket,  white  muslin 
trousers,  and  a  safforn-yellow  turban  of  price. 
He  gave  me  audience  in  a  little  carpeted  room 
opening  off  the  palace  court-yard,  which  was 
occupied  by  the  elephant  of  state.  The  great 
beast  was  sheeted  and  anchored  from  trunk  to 
tail,  and  the  curve  of  his  back  stood  out  against 
the  sky  line. 

The  prime  minister  and  the  director-general 
of  public  instruction  were  present  to  introduce 
me ;  but  all  the  court  had  been  dismissed  lest 
the  two  bottles  aforesaid  should  corrupt  their 
morals.  The  king  cast  a  wreath  of  heavy, 
scented  flowers  round  my  neck  as  I  bowed,  and 
inquired  how  my  honored  presence  had  the 
felicity  to  be.  I  said  that  through  seeing  his 
auspicious  countenance  the  mists  of  the  night 
had  turned  into  sunshine,  and  that  by  reason 


NAMGAY  DOOLA.  137 

of  his  beneficent  sheep  his  good  deeds  would 
be  remembered  by  the  gods.  He  said  that 
since  I  had  set  my  magnificent  foot  in  his  king- 
dom the  crops  would  probably  yield  seventy 
per  cent,  more  than  the  average.  I  said  that 
the  fame  of  the  king  had  reached  to  the  four 
corners  of  the  earth,  and  that  the  nations 
gnashed  their  teeth  when  they  heard  daily  of 
the  glory  of  his  realm  and  the  wisdom  of  his 
moon-like  prime  minister  and  lotus-eyed  direc- 
tor-general of  public  education. 

Then  we  sat  down  on  clean  white  cushions, 
and  I  was  at  the  king's  right  hand.  Three 
mmutes  later  he  was  telling  me  that  the  condi- 
tion of  the  maize  crop  was  something  disgrace- 
ful, and  that  the  railway  companies  would  not 
pay  him  enough  for  his  timber.  The  talk 
shifted  to  and  fro  with  the  bottles.  We  dis- 
cussed very  many  quaint  things,  and  the  king 
became  confidential  on  the  subject  of  govern- 
ment generally.  Most  of  all  he  dwelt  on  the 
short-comings  of  one  of  his  subjects,  who,  from 
what  I  could  gather,  had  been  paralyzing  the 
executive. 

•'In  the  old  days,"  said  the  king,  "I  could 
have  ordered  the  elephant  yonder  to  trample 
him  to  death.  Now  I  must  e'en  send  him 
seventy  miles  across  the  hills  to  be  tried,  and 
his  keep  for  that  time  would  be  upon  the  state. 
And  the  elephant  eats  everything.  " 

"What  be  the  man's  crimes,  Rajah  Sahib>" 
said  I. 

••Firstly,  he's  an  'outlander,'  and  no  man  of 
mme  own  people.     Secondly,  since  of  my  favor 


138  NAMGAY  DOOLA. 

I  gave  him  land  upon  his  coming,  he  refuses 
to  pay  revenue.  Am  I  not  the  lord  of  the 
earth,  above  and  below — entitled  by  right  and 
custom  to  one-eighth  of  the  crop?  Yet  this 
devil,  establishing  himself,  refuses  to  pay  a 
single  tax  .  .  .  and  he  brings  a  poisonous 
spawn  of  babies." 

"Cast  him  into  jail,"  I  said. 

"Sahib,"  the  king  answered,  shifting  a  little 
on  the  cushions,  "once  and  only  once  in  these 
forty  years  sickness  came  upon  me  so  that  I 
was  not  able  to  go  abroad.  In  that  hour  I 
made  a  vow  to  my  God  that  I  would  never 
again  cut  man  or  woman  from  the  light  of  the 
sun  and  the  air  of  God,  for  I  perceived  the 
nature  of  the  punishment.  How  can  I  break 
my  vow?  Were  it  only  the  lopping  off  of  a 
hand  or  a  foot,  I  should  not  delay.  But  even 
that  is  impossible  now  that  the  English  have 
rule.  One  or  another  of  my  people" — he 
looked  obliquely  at  the  director-general  of  pub- 
lic education — "would  at  once  write  a  letter  to 
the  viceroy,  and  perhaps  I  should  be  deprived 
of  that  ruffle  of  drums." 

He  unscrewed  the  mouthpiece  of  his  silver 
water-pipe,  fitted  a  plain  amber  one,  and  passed 
the  pipe  to  me.  "Not  content  with  refusing 
revenue,"  he  continued,  "this  outlander  re- 
fuses also  to  beegar"  (this  is  the  corvee  or 
forced  lahor  on  the  roads),  "and  stirs  my 
people  up  to  the  like  treason.  Yet  he  is,  if  so 
he  wills,  an  expert  log-snatcher.  There  is  none 
better  or  bolder  among  my  people  to  clear  a 
block  of  the  river  when  the  logs  stick  fast." 


NAMGAY  DOOLA.  139 

*'But  he  worships  strange  gods,"  said  the 
prime  minister,  deferentially. 

"For  that  I  have  no  concern,"  said  the  king, 
who  was  as  tolerant  as  Akbar  in  matters  of  be- 
lief. "To  each  man  his  own  god,  and  the  fire 
or  Mother  Earth  for  us  all  at  the  last.  It  is 
the  rebellion  that  offends  me." 

"The  king  has  an  army,"  I  suggested. 
'*Has  not  the  king  burned  the  man's  house, 
and  left  him  naked  to  the  night  dews?" 

"Nay.  A  hut  is  a  hut,  and  it  holds  the  life 
of  a  man.  But  once  I  sent  my  army  against 
him  when  his  excuses  became  wearisome.  Of 
their  heads  he  brake  three  across  the  top  with 
a  stick.  The  other  two  men  ran  away.  Also 
the  guns  would  not  shoot." 

I  had  seen  the  equipment  of  the  infantry. 
One-third  of  it  was  an  old  muzzle-loading  fowl- 
ing-piece with  ragged  rust  holes  where  the  nip- 
ples should  have  been;  one-third  a  wire-bound 
matchlock  with  a  worm-eaten  stock,  and  one- 
third  a  four-bore  flint  duck  gun,  without  a  flint. 

"But  it  is  to  be  remembered,"  said  the 
king,  reaching  out  for  the  bottle,  "that  he  is  a 
very  expert  log-snatcher  and  a  man  of  a  merry 
face.     What  shall  I  do  to  him,  sahib?" 

This  was  interesting.  The  timid  hill-folk 
would  as  soon  have  refused  taxes  to  their  king 
as  offerings  to  their  gods.  The  rebel  must  be 
a  man  of  character, 

"If  it  be  the  king's  permission,"  I  said,  "I 
will  not  strike  my  tents  till  the  third  day,  and 
I  will  see  this  man  The  mercy  of  the  king  is 
godlike,  and  rebellion  is  like  unto  the  sin  of 


140  NAMGAY  DOOLA. 

witchcraft.  Moreover,  both  the  bottles,  and 
another,  be  empty." 

"You  have  my  leave  to  go,"  said  the  king. 

Next  morning  the  crier  went  through  the 
state  proclaiming  that  there  was  a  log-jam  on 
the  river  and  that  it  behooved  all  loyal  sub- 
jects to  clear  it.  The  people  poured  down 
from  their  villages  to  the  moist,  warm  valley 
of  poppy  fields,  and  the  king  and  I  went  with 
them. 

Hundreds  of  dressed  deodar  logs  had  caught 
on  a  snag  of  rock,  and  the  river  was  bringing 
down  more  logs  every  minute  to  complete  the 
blockade.  The  water  snarled  and  wrenched 
and  worried  at  the  timber,  while  the  popula- 
tion of  the  state  prodded  at  the  nearest  logs 
with  poles,  in  the  hope  of  easing  the  pressure. 
Then  there  went  up  a  shout  of  * '  Namgay  Doola, 
Namgay  Doola!"  and  a  large,  red-haired  vil- 
lager hurried  up,  stripping  off  his  clothes  as  he 
ran. 

"That  is  he.  That  is  the  rebel!"  said  the 
king.     "Now  will  the  dam  be  cleared." 

"But  why  has  he  red  hair?"  I  asked,  since 
red  hair  among  hill-folk  is  as  uncommon  as  blue 
or  green. 

"Heisanoutlander,"  said  the  king.  "Well 
done!     Oh,  well  done'" 

Namgay  Doola  had  scrambled  on  the  jam 
and  was  clawing  out  the  butt  of  a  log  with  a 
rude  sort  of  a  boat-hook.  It  slid  forward 
slowly,  as  an  alligator  moves,  and  three  or  four 
others  followed  it.  The  green  water  spouted 
through  the  gaps.     Then  the  villagers  howled 


NAMGAY  DOOLA.  141 

and  shouted  and  leaped  among  the  logs,  pull- 
ing and  pushing  the  obstinate  timber,  and  the 
red  head  of  Namgay  Doola  was  chief  among 
them  all.  The  logs  swayed  and  chafed  and 
groaned  as  fresh  consignments  from  up-stream 
battered  the  now  weakening  dam.  It  gave 
way  at  last  in  a  smother  of  foam,  racing  butts, 
bobbing  black  heads,  and  a  confusion  inde- 
scribable, as  the  river  tossed  everything  be- 
fore it.  I  saw  the  red  head  go  down  with  the 
last  remnants  of  the  jam  and  disappear  be- 
tween the  great  grinding  tree  trunks.  It  rose 
close  to  the  bank,  and  blowing  like  a  grampus, 
Namgay  Doola  wiped  the  water  out  of  his  eyes 
and  made  obeisance  to  the  king. 

I  had  time  to  observe  the  man  closely.  The 
virulent  redness  of  his  shock  head  and  beard 
was  most  startling,  and  in  the  thicket  of  hair 
twinkled  above  high  cheek-bones  two  very 
merry  blue  eyes.  He  was  indeed  an  out- 
lander,  but  yet  a  Thibetan  in  language,  habit, 
and  attire.  He  spoke  the  Lepcha  dialect 
with  an  indescribable  softening  of  the  gut- 
turals.    It  was  not  so  much  a  lisp  as  an  accent. 

*'Whencecomest  thou?"  I  asked,  wondering. 

**From  Thibet. "  He  pointed  across  the  hills 
and  grinned.  That  grin  went  straight  to  my 
heart.  Mechanically  I  held  out  my  hand,  and 
Namgay  Doola  took  it.  No  pure  Thibetan 
would  have  understood  the  meaning  of  the 
gesture.  He  went  away  to  look  for  his  clothes, 
and  as  he  climbed  back  to  his  village,  I  heard 
a  joyous  yell  that  seemed  unaccountably  fami- 
liar.    It  was  the  whooping  of  Namgay  Doola. 


14^  NAMGAY  doola. 

"You  see  no\Y, "  said  the  king,  "why  I  would 
not  kill  him.  He  is  a  bold  man  among  my 
logs,  but,"  and  he  shook  his  head  like  a  school- 
master, "I  know  that  before  long  there  will 
be  complaints  of  him  in  the  court.  Let  lis  re- 
turn to  the  palace  and  do  justice," 

It  was  that  king's  custom  to  judge  his  sub- 
jects every  day  between  eleven  and  three 
o'clock.  I  heard  him  do  justice  equitably  on 
weighty  matters  of  trespass,  slander,  and  a  little 
wife-stealing.  Then  his  brow  clouded  and  he 
summoned  me. 

"Again  it  is  Namgay  Doola,"  he  said, 
despairingly.  "Not  content  with  refusing 
revenue  on  his  own  part,  he  has  bound  half  his 
village  by  an  oath  to  the  like  treason.  Never 
before  has  such  a  thing  befallen  me!  Nor 
are  my  taxes  lieavy. " 

A  rabbit-faced  villager,  with  a  blush-rose 
stuck  behind  his  ear,  advanced  trembling.  He 
had  been  in  Namgay  Doola's  conspiracy,  but 
had  told  everything  and  hoped  for  the  king's 
^avor. 

"Oh,  king!"  said  I,  "if  it  be  the  king's  will, 
let  this  matter  stand  over  till  the  morning. 
Only  the  gods  can  do  right  in  a  hurry,  and  it 
may  be  that  yonder  villager  has  lied." 

"Nay,  for  I  know  the  nature  of  Nam.gay 
Doola;  but  since  a  guest  asks,  let  the  matter 
remain.  Wilt  thou,  for  my  sake,  speak  harshly 
to  this  red-headed  outlander?  He  may  listen 
to  thee." 

I  made  an  attempt  that  very  evening,  but  for 
the  life  of  me   I  could  not  keep  my  counten- 


NAMGAY  DOOLA.  143 

ance.  Namgfay  Doola  grinned  so  persuasively 
and  began  to  tell  me  about  a  big  brown  bear 
in  a  poppy  field  by  the  river.  Would  I  care  to 
shoot  that  bear?  I  spoke  austerely  on  the  sin 
of  detected  conspiracy  and  the  certainty  of 
punishment.  Namgay  Doola's  face  clouded 
for  a  moment.  Shortly  afterward  he  with- 
drew from  my  tent,  and  I  heard  him  singing 
softly  among  the  pines.  The  words  were  un- 
intelligible to  me,  but  the  tune,  like  his 
liquid,  insinuating  speech,  seemed  the  ghost 
of  something  strangely  familiar. 

"Dir  hane  mard-i-yemen  dir 
To  weeree  ala  gee, ' ' 

crooned  Namgay  Doola  again  and  again,  and 
I  racked  my  brain  for  that  lost  tune.  It  was 
not  till  after  dinner  that  I  discovered  some  one 
had  cut  a  square  foot  of  velvet  from  the  center 
of  my  best  camera  cloth.  This  made  me  so 
angry  that  I  wandered  down  the  valley  in  the 
hope  of  meeting  the  big  brown  bear.  I  could 
hear  him  grunting  like  a  discontented  pig  in 
the  poppy  field  as  I  waited  shoulder  deep  in 
the  dew-dripping  Indian  corn  to  catch  him  after 
his  meal.  The  moon  was  at  full  and  drew  out 
the  scent  of  the  tasseled  crop.  Then  I  heard 
the  anguished  bellow  of  a  Himalayan  cow — 
one  of  the  little  black  crummies  no  bigger  than 
Newfoundland  dogs.  Two  shadows  that 
looked  like  a  bear  and  her  cub  hurried  past 
me.  I  was  in  the  act  of  firing  when  I  saw 
that  each  bore  a  brilliant  red  head.     The  lesser 


tU  NAMGAY  DOOLA. 

animal  was  trailing  something  rope-like  that 
left  a  dark  track  on  the  path.  They  were 
within  six  feet  of  me,  and  the  shadov/  of  the 
moonlight  lay  velvet-black  on  their  faces. 
Velvet-black  was  exactly  the  word,  for  by  all 
the  powers  of  moonlight  they  were  masked  in 
the  velvet  of  my  camera-cloth.  I  marveled, 
and  went  to  bed. 

Next  morning  the  kingdom  was  in  an  uproar. 
Namgay  Doola,  men  said,  had  gone  forth  in 
the  night  and  with  a  sharp  knife  had  cut  off 
the  tail  of  a  cow  belonging  to  the  rabbit-faced 
villager  who  had  betrayed  him.  It  was  sacri- 
lege unspeakable  against  the  holy  cow!  The 
state  desired  his  blood,  but  he  had  retreated 
into  his  hut,  barricaded  the  doors  and  windows 
with  big  stones,  and  defied  the  world. 

The  king  and  I  and  the  populace  appr@ached 
the  hut  cautiously.  There  was  no  hope  of 
capturing  our  man  without  loss  of  life,  for 
from  a  hole  in  the  wall  projected  the  muzzle 
,of  an  extremely  well- cared- for  gun — the  only 
gun  in  the  state  that  could  shoot.  Namgay 
Doola  had  narrowly  missed  a  villager  just  be- 
fore we  came  up. 

The  standing  army  stood. 

It  could  do  no  more,  for  when  it  advanced 
pieces  of  sharp  shale  flew  from  the  windows. 
To  these  were  added  from  time  to  time  show- 
ers of  scalding  water.  We  saw  red  heads  bob- 
bing up  and  down  within.  The  family  of 
Namgay  Doola  were  aiding  their  sire.  Blood- 
curdling yells  of  defiance  were  the  only  answer 
to  our  prayers. 


NAMGAY   DOOLA.  145 

*'Never/*  said  the  king-,  puffing,  "has  such  a 
thing-  befallen  my  state.  Next  year  I  will 
certainly  buy  a  little  cannon."  He  looked  at 
me  imploringly. 

**Is  there  any  priest  in  the  kingdom  to  whom 
he  will  listen?"  said  I,  for  a  light  was  begin- 
ning to  break  upon  me. 

**He  worships  his  own  god,"  said  the  prime 
minister.     "We  can  but  starve  him  out." 

"Let  the  white  man  approach,"  said  Nam- 
gay  Doola  from  within.  "All  others  I  will 
kill.     Send  me  the  white  man." 

The  door  was  thrown  open  and  I  entered  the 
smoky  interior  of  a  Thibetan  hut  crammed 
with  children.  And  every  child  had  flaming 
red  hair.  A  fresh-gathered  cow's  tail  lay  on 
the  floor,  and  by  its  side  two  pieces  of  black 
velvet — my  black  velvet — rudely  hacked  into 
the  semblance  of  masks. 

"And  what  is  this  shame,  Namgay  Doola?" 
I  asked. 

He  grinned  more  charmingly  than  ever. 
"There  is  no  shame,"  said  he.  "I  did  but  cut 
off  the  tail  of  that  man's  cow.  He  betrayed 
me.  I  was  minded  to  shoot  him,  sahib,  but 
not  to  death.  Indeed,  not  to  death ;  only  in 
the  legs." 

"And  why  at  all,  since  it  is  the  custom  to 
pay  revenue  to  the  king?    Why  at  all?" 

"By  the  god  of  my  father,  I  can  not  tell," 
said  Namgay  Doola. 

"And  who  was  thy  father?" 

"The  same  that  had  this  gun. "  He  showed 
me  his  weapon,  a  Tower  musket,  bearing  date 

IQ  Ditties 


146  NAMGAY   DOOLA. 

1 832  and  the  stamp  of  the  Honorable  East  India 
Company. 

**And  thy  father's  name?"  said  I. 

*'Timlay  Doola,"  said  he.  '*At  the  first,  I 
being  then  a  little  child,  it  is  in  my  mind  that 
he  wore  a  red  coat. ' ' 

"Of  that  I  have  no  doubt;  but  repeat  the 
name  of  thy  father  twice  or  thrice." 

He  obeyed,  and  I  understood  whence  the 
puzzling-  accent  in  his  speech  came.  "Thimla 
Dhula!"  said  he  excitedly.  "To  this  hour  I 
worship  his  god." 

"May  I  see  that  god?" 

"In  a  little  while — at  twilight  time." 

"Rememberest  thou  aught  of  thy  father's 
speech?" 

"It  is  long  ago.  But  there  was  one  word 
which  he  said  of  ten.  Thus,  'Shun!'  Then  I 
and  my  brethren  stood  upon  our  feet,  our 
hands  to  our  sides,  thus." 

"Even  so.     And  what  was  thy  mother?" 

"A  woman  of  the  Hills.  We  be  Lepchas  of 
Darjiling,  but  me  they  call  an  outlander,  be- 
cause my  hair  as  as  thou  seest. " 

The  Thibetan  woman,  his  wife,  touched  him 
on  the  arm  gently.  The  long  parley  outside 
the  fort  had  lasted  far  into  the  day.  It  was 
now  close  upon  twilight — the  hour  of  the 
Angelus.  Very  solemnly  the  red-headed  brats 
rose  from  the  floor  and  formed  a  semicircle. 
Namgay  Doola  laid  his  gun  aside,  lighted  a 
little  oil-lamp,  and  set  it  before  a  recess  in  the 
wall.  Pulling  back  a  whisp  of  dirty  cloth,  he 
revealed  a  worn  brass  crucifix,  leaning  against 


NAMGAY   DOOLA.  147 

the  helmet  badge  of  a  long-forgotten  East 
India  Company's  regiment.  **Thus  did  my 
father/'  he  said,  crossing  himself  clumsily. 
The  wife  and  children  followed  suit.  Then, 
all  together,  they  struck  up  the  wailing  chant 
that  I  heard  on  the  hill-side  : 

"Dir  hane  mard-i-yemen  dir 
To  weeree  ala  gee. ' ' 

I  was  puzzled  no  longer.  Again  and  again 
they  sung,  as  if  their  hearts  would  break,  their 
version  of  the  chorus  of"  The  Wearing  of  the 
Green": 

"They're  hanging  men  and  women,  too, 
For  the  wearing  of  the  green." 

A  diabolical  inspiration  came  to  me.  One  of 
the  brats,  a  boy  about  eight  years  old — could 
he  have  been  in  the  fields  last  night? — was 
watching  me  as  he  sung. 

I  pulled  out  a  rupee,  held  the  coin  between 
finger  and  thumb,  and  looked— only  looked— at 
the  gun  leaning  against  the  wall.  A  grin  of 
brilliant  and  perfect  comprehension  overspread 
his  porringer-like  face.  Never  for  an  instant 
stopping  the  song,  he  held  out  his  hand  for 
the  money,  and  then  slid  the  gun  to  my  hand. 
I  might  have  shot  Namgay  Doola  dead  as  he 
chanted,  but  I  was  satisfied.  The  inevitable 
blood-instinct  held  true.  Namgay  Doola  drew 
the  curtain  across  the  recess.  Angelus  was 
over. 


148  NAMGAY  DOOLA. 

"Thus  my  father  sung.  There  was  much 
more,  but  I  have  forgotten,  and  I  do  not  know 
the  purport  of  even  these  words,  but  it  may  be 
that  the  god  will  understand.  I  am  not  of  this 
people,  and  I  will  not  pay  revenue. " 

"And  why?" 

Again  that  soul-compelling  grin.  "What 
occupation  would  be  to  me  between  crop  and 
crop?  It  is  better  than  scaring  bears.  But 
these  people  do  not  understand." 

He  picked  the  masks  off  the  floor  and  looked 
in  my  face  as  simply  as  a  child. 

"By  what  road  didst  thou  attain  knowledge 
to  make  those  deviltries?"  I  said,  pointing. 

"I  can  not  tell.  I  am  but  a  Lepcha  of  Dar- 
jiling,  and  yet  the  stuff " 

"Which  thou  has  stolen,"  said  I. 

"Nay,  surely.  Did  I  steal?  I  desired  it  so. 
The  stuff — the  stuff.  What  else  should  I  have 
done  with  the  stuff?"  He  twisted  the  velvet 
between  his  fingers. 

"But  the  sin  of  maiming  the  cow — consider 
that." 

"Oh,  sahib,  the  man  betrayed  me;  the 
heifer'3  tail  waved  in  the  moonlight,  and  I  had 
my  knife.     What   else    should  I  have   done? 

The  tail  came  off  ere  I  was  aware.  Sahib, 
thou  knowest  more  than  I.  " 

"That  is  true,"  said  I.  "Stay  within  the 
door.  I  go  to  speak  to  the  king."  The  popu- 
lation of  the  state  were  ranged  on  the  hill-side. 
I  went  forth  and  spoke. 

"Oh,  king,"  said  I,  "touching  this  man, 
there  be    two  courses   open    to  thy   wisdom. 


NAMGAY   DOOLA.  149 

Thou  canst  either  hang  him  from  a  tree — he 
and  his  brood — till  there  remains  no  hair  that 
is  red  within  thy  land." 

*'Nay,"  said  the  king.  "Why  should  I  hurt 
the  little  children?" 

They  had  poured  out  of  the  hut  and  were 
making  plump  obeisance  to  everybody. 
Namgay  Doola  waited  at  the  door  with  his 
gun  across  his  arm. 

'*Or  thou  canst,  discarding  their  impiety  of 
the  cow-maiming",  raise  him  to  honor  in  thy 
army.  He  comes  of  a  race  that  will  not  pay 
revenue.  A  red  flame  is  in  his  blood  which 
comes  out  at  the  top  of  his  head  in  that  glow- 
ing hair.  Make  him  chief  of  thy  army. 
Give  him  honor  as  may  befall  and  full  allow- 
ance of  work,  but  look  to  it,  oh,  king,  that 
neither  he  nor  his  hold  a  foot  of  earth  from 
thee  henceforward.  Feed  him  with  words  and 
favor,  and  also  liquor  from  certain  bottles  that 
thou  knowest  of,  and  he  will  be  a  bulwark  of 
defense.  But  deny  him  even  a  tuftlet  of  grass 
for  his  ov/n.  This  is  the  nature  that  God  has 
given  him.     Moreover,  he  has  brethren " 

The  state  groaned  unanimously. 

"But  if  his  brethren  come  they  will  surely 
fight  with  each  other  till  they  die;  or  else  the 
one  will  always  give  information  concerning 
the  other.  Shall  he  be  of  thy  army,  oh,  king? 
Choose." 

The  king  bowed  his  head,  and  I  said: 
"Come  forth,  Namgay  Doola,  and  command 
the  king's  army.     Thy  name  shall  no  more  be 


150  NAMGAY   DOOLA. 

Namgay  in  the  mouths  of  men,  but  Patsay 
Doola,  for,  as  thou  hast  truly  said,  I  know." 

Then  Namgay  Doola,  new-christened  Patsay 
Doola,  son  of  Timlay  Doola — which  is  Tim 
Doolan — clasped  the  king's  feet,  cuffed  the 
standing  army,  and  hurried  in  an  agony  of 
contrition  from  temple  to  temple  amking 
offerings  for  the  sin  of  the  cattle-maiming. 

And  the  king  was  so  pleased  with  my  perspi- 
cacity that  he  offered  to  sell  me  a  village  for 
^20  sterling.  But  I  buy  no  village  in  the 
Himalayas  so  long  as  one  red  head  flares  be- 
tween the  tail  of  the  heaven-climbing  glacier 
and  the  dark  birch  forest. 

I  know  that  breed. 


MOTI  GUJ— MUTINEER. 


Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  coffee-planter 
in  India  who  wished  to  clear  some  forest  land 
for  coiTee-planting.  When  he  had  cut  down 
all  the  trees  and  burned  the  underwood,  the 
stumps  still  remained.  Dynamiie  is  expensive 
and  slow  fire  slow.  The  happy  medium  for 
stump-clearing  is  the  lord  of  all  beasts,  who  is 
the  elephant.  He  will  either  push  the  stump 
out  of  the  ground  with  his  tusks,  if  he  has  any, 
or  drag  it  out  with  ropes.  The  planter,  there- 
fore, hired  elephants  by  ones  and  twos  and 
threes,  and  fell  to  work.  The  very  best  of  all 
the  elephants  belonged  to  the  very  worst  of  all 
the  drivers  or  mahouts;  and  this  superior 
beast's  name  was  Moti  Guj.  He  was  the  abso- 
lute property  of  his  mahout,  which  would  never 
have  been  the  case  under  native  rule:  for  Moti 
Guj  was  a  creature  to  be  desired  by  kings,  and 
his  name,  being  translated,  meant  the  Pearl 
Elephant.  Because  the  British  government 
was  in  the  land,  Deesa,  the  mahout,  enjoyed 
his  property  undisturbed.  He  was  dissipated. 
When  he  had  made  much  money  through  the 
strength  of  his  elephant,  he  would  get 
extremely  drunk  and  give  Moti  Guj  a  beating 
with  a  tent-peg  over  the  tender  nails  of  the 
151 


152  MOTI  GUJ-MUTINEER. 

forefeet.  Moti  Guj  never  trampled  the  life 
out  of  Deesa  on  these  occasions,  for  he  knew 
that  after  the  beating  was  over,  Deesa  would 
embrace  his  trunk  and  weep  and  call  him  his 
love  and  his  life  and  the  liver  of  his  soul,  and 
give  him  'some  liquor.  Moti  Guj  was  very 
fond  of  liquor — arrack  for  choice,  though  he 
would  drink  palm-tree  toddy  if  nothing  better 
offered.  Then  Deesa  would  go  to  sleep  between 
Moti  Guj's  forefeet,  and  as  Deesa  generally 
chose  the  middle  of  the  public  road,  and  as 
Moti  Guj  mounted  guard  over  him,  and  would 
not  permit  horse,  foot,  or  cart  to  pass  by, 
traffic  was  congested  till  Deesa  saw  fit  to  wake 
up. 

There  was  no  sleeping  in  the  day-time  on 
the  planter's  clearing:  the  wages  were  too 
high  to  risk.  Deesa  sat  on  IMoti  Guj°s  neck 
and  gave  him  orders,  while  Moti  Guj  rooted  up 
the  stumps — for  he  owned  a  magnificent  pair 
of  tusks;  or  pulled  at  the  end  of  a  rope — for 
he  had  a  magnificent  pair  of  shoulders — while 
Deesa  kicked  him  behind  the  ears  and  said  he 
was  the  king  of  elephants.  At  evening  time 
Moti  Guj  would  wash  down  his  three  hundred 
pounds'  weight  of  green  food  with  a  quart  of 
arrack,  and  Deesa  would  take  a  share,  and 
sing  songs  between  Moti  Guj's  legs  till  it  was 
time  to  go  to  bed.  Once  a  week  Deesa  led 
Moti  Guj  down  to  the  river,  and  Moti  Guj  lay 
on  his  side  luxuriously  in  the  shallows,  while 
Deesa  went  over  him  with  a  coir  swab  and  a 
brick.  Moti  Guj  never  mistook  the  pounding; 
blow  of  the  latter  for  the  smack  of  the  former 


MOTI  GUJ— MUTINEER.  153 

that  warned  him  to  get  up  and  turn  over  on 
the  other  side.  Then  Deesa  would  look  at  his 
feet  and  examine  his  eyes,  and  turn  up  the 
fringes  of  his  mighty  ears  in  case  of  sores  or 
budding  ophthalmia.  After  inspection  the 
two  would* 'come  up  with  a  song  from  the  sea," 
Moti  Guj,  all  black  and  shining,  waving  a  torn 
tree  branch  twelve  feet  long  in  his  trunk,  and 
Deesa  knotting  up  his  own  long  wet  hair. 

It  was  a  peaceful,  well-paid  life  till  Deesa  felt 
the  return'  of  the  desire  to  drink  deep.  He 
wished  for  an  orgy.  The  little  draughts  that 
led  nowhere  were  taking  the  manhood  out  of 
him. 

He  went  to  the  planter,  and  **My  mother's 
dead,"  said  he,  weeping. 

"She  died  on  the  last  plantation  two  months 
ago,  and  she  died  once  before  that  when  you 
were  working  forme  last  year,  "said  the  planter, 
who  knew  something  of  the  ways  of  native- 
dom. 

*'Then  it's  my  aunt,  and  she  was  just  the 
same  as  ?  mother  to  me,"  said  Deesa,  weeping 
more  than  ever.  "She  has  left  eighteen  small 
children  entirely  without  bread,  and  it  is  I  who 
must  fill  their  little  stomachs,"  said  Deesa, 
beating  his  head  on  the  floor. 

*'Who  brought  you  the  news?"  said  the 
planter. 

"The  post,"  said  Deesa. 

"There  hasn't  been  a  post  here  for  the  past 
week.     Get  back  to  your  lines!" 

•'A  devasting  sickness  has  fallen  on  my  vil- 


154  MOTI  GUJ— MUTINEER. 

lage,    and  all   my   wives   are   dying,"   yelled 
Deesa,  really  in  tears  this  time. 
-  *'Ca]l  Chihun,  who  comes  from  Deesa's  vil- 
lage," said  the  planter.   *' Chihun,  has  this  man 
got  a  wife?" 

*'He?"  said  Chihun.  "No.  Not  a  woman 
of  our  village  would  look  at  him.  They'd 
sooner  marry  the  elephant." 

Chihun  snorted.     Deesa  wept  and  bellowed. 

**You  will  get  into  difficulty  in  a  minute," 
said  the  planter.     "Go  back  to  your  work!" 

"Now  I  will  speak  Heaven's  truth,"  gulped 
Deesa,  with  an  inspiration.  "I  haven't  been 
drunk  for  two  months.  I  desire  to  depart  in 
order  to  get  properly  drunk  afar  off  and  distant 
from  this  heavenly  plantation.  Thus  I  shall 
cause  no  trouble." 

A  flickering  smile  crossed  the  planter's  face. 
**Deesa,"  said  he,  "you've  spoken  the  truth, 
and  I'd  give  you  leave  on  the  spot  if  anything 
could  be  done  with  Moti  Guj  while  you're 
away.  You  know  that  he  will  only  obey 
your  orders." 

"May  the  light  of  the  heavens  live  forty 
thousand  years.  I  shall  be  absent  but  ten 
little  days.  After  that,  upon  my  faith  and 
honor  and  soul,  I  return.  As  to  the  inconsid- 
erable interval,  have  I  the  gracious  permission 
of  the  heaven-born  to  call  up  Moti  Guj?" 

Permission  was  granted,  and  in  answer  to 
Deesa's  shrill  yell,  the  mighty  tusker  swung 
out  of  the  shade  of  a  clump  of  trees  where  he 
had  been  squirting  dust  over  himself  till  his 
master  should  return. 


MOTI  GUJ-MUTINEER.  155 

*  *  Light  of  my  heart,  protector  of  the  drunken, 
mountain  of  might,  give  ear!"  said  Deesa, 
standing  in  front  of  him.  .  ,_   t.. 

Moti  Guj  gave  ear,  and  saluted  with  his 
trunk.     *'I  am  going  away,"  said  Deesa. 

Moti  Guj's  eyes  twinkled.  He  liked  jaunts 
as  well  as  his  master.  One  could  snatch  all 
manner  of  nice  things  from  the  road-side  then. 

"But  you,  you  fussy  old  pig,  must  stay  behind 

and  work."  ,,     .  ^    .      •    -,  . 

The  twinkle  died  out  as  Moti  Guj  tried  to 
look  delighted.  He  hated  stump-hauling  on 
the  plantation.     It  hurt  his  teeth. 

*'I  shall  be  gone  for  ten  days,  oh,  delectable 
one!  Hold  up  your  near  forefoot  and  Til 
impress  the  fact  upon  it,  warty  toad  of  a  dried 
mud-puddle."  Deesa  took  a  tent-peg  and 
banged  Moti  Guj  ten  times  on  the  nails.  Moti 
-Guj  grunted  and  shuffled  from  foot  to  foot. 

"Ten  days,"  said  Deesa,  "you  will  work  and 
haul  and  root  the  trees  as  Chihun  here  _  shall 
order  you.  Take  up  Chihun  and  set  him  on 
your  neck'"  Moti  Guj  curled  the  tip  of  his 
trunk,  Chihun  put  his  foot  there,  and  was 
swung  on  to  the  neck.  Deesa  handed  Chihun 
the  heavy  ankus—'C^^  iron  elephant  goad. 

Chihun  thumped  Moti  Guj's  bald  head  as  a 
paver  thumps  a  curbstone. 

Moti  Guj  trumpeted.  ^ 

"Be  still,  hog  of  the  backwoods!  Chihun  s 
your  mahout  for  ten  days.  And  now  bid  me 
good-bye,  beast  after  mine  own  heart.  Oh, 
my  lord,  my  king!      Jewel  of  all  created  ele- 


156  MOTI  GUJ— MUTINEER. 

phants,  lily  of  the  herd,  preserve  your  honored 
health ;  be  virtuous.     Adieu!" 

Moti  Guj  lapped  his  trunk  round  Deesa  and 
swung-  him  into  the  air  twice.  That  was  his 
way  of  bidding  him  good-bye. 

' '  He'll  work  now, ' '  said  Deesa  to  the  planter. 
•'Have  I  leave  to  go?" 

The  planter  nodded,  and  Deesa  dived  into 
the  woods.  Moti  Guj  went  back  to  haul 
stumps. 

Chihun  was  very  kind  to  him,  but  he  felt 
unhappy  and  forlorn  for  all  that.  Chihun 
gave  him  a  ball  of  spices,  and  tickled  him 
under  the  chin,  and  Chihun's  little  baby  cooed 
to  him  after  work  was  over,  and  Chihun's  wife 
called  him  a  darling;  but  Moti  Guj  was  a 
bachelor  by  instinct,  as  Deesa  was.  He  did  not 
understand  the  domestic  emotions.  He 
wanted  the  light  of  his  universe  back  again — 
the  drink  and  the  drunken  slumber,  the  savage 
beatings  and  the  savage  caresses. 

None  the  less  he  worked  well,  and  the  planter 
wondered.  Deesa  had  wandered  along  the 
roads  till  he  met  a  marriage  procession  of  his 
own  caste,  and,  drinking,  dancing,  and  tip- 
pling, had  drifted  with  it  past  all  knowledge  of 
the  lapse  of  time. 

The  morning  of  the  eleventh  day  dawned, 
and  there  returned  no  Deesa.  Moti  Guj  was 
loosed  from  his  ropes  for  the  daily  stint.  He 
swung  clear,  looked  round,  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders, and  began  to  walk  away,  as  one  having" 
business  elsewhere. 

**Hi!  Ho!     Come  back  you!"  shouted  Chi- 


MOTI   GUJ— MUTINEER.  157 

hun.  "Come  back  and  put  me  on  your  neck, 
misborn  mountain!  Return,  splendor  of  the 
hill-sides!  Adornment  of  all  India,  heave  to, 
or  I'll  bang  every  toe  off  your  fat  forefoot!" 

Moti  Guj  gurgled  gently,  but  did  not  obey. 
Chihun  ran  after  him  with  a  rope  and  caught 
him  up.  Moti  Guj  put  his  ears  forward,  and 
Chihun  knew  what  that  meant,  though  he  tried 
to  carry  it  off  with  high  words. 

**None  of  your  nonsense  with  me,"  said  he. 
'*To  your  pickets,  devil-son!" 

*'Hrrump!"  said  Moti  Guj,  and  that  was  all 
— that  and  the  forebent  ears. 

Moti  Guj  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  chewed 
a  branch  for  a  toothpick,  and  strolled  about  the 
clearing,  making  fun  of  the  other  elephants 
who  had  just  set  to  work. 

Chihun  reported  the  state  of  afifairs  to  the 
planter,  who  came  out  with  a  dog-whip  and 
cracked  it  furiously.  Moti  Guj  paid  the  white 
man  the  compliment  of  charging  him  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  across  the  clearing  and 
*'Hrrumphing"  him  into  his  veranda.  Then  he 
stooa  outside  the  house, chucklingto  himself  and 
shaking  all  over  with  the  fun  of  it,  as  an  ele- 
phant will. 

*'We'll  thrash  him."  said  the  planter.  "He 
shall  have  the  finest  thrashing  ever  elephant 
received.  Give  Kala  Nag  and  Nazim  twelve 
foot  of  chain  apiece,  and  tell  them  to  lay  on 
twenty." 

Kala  Nag — which  means  Black  Snake — and 
Nazim  were  two  of  the  biggest  elephants  in 
the  lines,  and  one  of  their  duties  was  to  admin- 


1-8  MOTI  GUj— MUTINEER. 

ister  the  graver  punishment,  since  no  man  can 
beat  an  elephant  properly. 

They  took  the  whipping-chains  and  rattled 
them  in  their  trunks  as  they  sidled  up  to  Moti 
Guj  meaning  to  hustle  him  between  them. 
Moti  Guj  had  never,  in  all  his  life  of  thirty- 
nine  years,  been  whipped,  and  he  did  not 
intend  to  begin  a  new  experience.  So  he 
waited,  waving  his  head  from  right  to  left,  and 
measuring  the  precise  spot  in  Kala  Nag's  fat 
side  where  a  blunt  tusk  could  sink  deepest. 
Kala  Nag  had  no  tusks;  the  chain  was  his 
badge  of  authority ;  but  for  all  that,  he  swung 
wide  of  Moti  Guj  at  the  last  minute,  and  tried 
to  appear  as  if  he  had  brought  the  chain  out 
for  amusement.  Nazim  turned  round  and  went 
home  early.  He  did  not  feel  fighting  fit  that 
morning,  and  so  Moti  Guj  was  left  standing 
alone  with  his  ears  cocked. 

That  decided  the  planter  to  argue  no  more, 
and  Moti  Guj  rolled  back  to  his  amateur 
inspection  of  the  clearing.  An  elephant  who 
will  not  work  and  is  not  tied  up  is  about  as  man- 
ageable as  an  eighty-one-ton  gun  loose  in  a 
heavy  seaway.  He  slapped  old  friends  on  the 
back  and  asked  them  if  the  stumps  were  com- 
ing away  easily;  he  talked  nonsense  concern- 
ing labor  and  the  inalienable  rights  of  ele- 
phants to  a  long  **nooning;"  and,  wandering 
to  and  fro.  he  thoroughly  demoralized  the  gar- 
den till  sundown,  when  he  returned  to  his 
picket  for  food. 

'*If  you  won't  work,  you  shan't  eat,"  said 
Chihun,    angrily.      **  You're  a  wild  elephant, 


MOTI  GUJ-MUTINEER.  15^ 

and  no  educated  animal  at   all.      Go  back   to 
your  jungle. " 

Chihun's  little  brown  baby  was  rolling  on 
the  floor  of  the  hut,  and  stretching  out  its  fat 
arms  to  the  huge  shadow  in  the  doorway. 
Moti  Guj  knew  well  that  it  was  the  dearest 
thing  on  earth  to  Chihun.  He  swung  out  his 
trunk  with  a  fascinating  crook  at  the  end,  and 
the  brown  baby  threw  itself,  shouting,  upon 
it.  Moti  Guj  made  fast  and  pulled  up  till  the 
brown  baby  was  crowing  in  the  air  twelve  feet 
above  his  father's  head. 

"Great  Lord!"  said  Chihun.  *' Flour  cakes 
of  the  best,  twelve  in  number,  two  feet  across 
and  soaked  in  rum,  shall  be  yours  on  the 
instant,  and  two  hundred  pounds'  weight  of 
fresh-cut  young  sugar-cane  therewith.  Deign 
only  to  put  down  safely  that  insignificant  brat 
who  is  my  heart  and  my  life  to  me!" 

Moti  Guj  tucked  the  brown  baby  comfortably 
between  his  forefeet,  that  could  have  knocked 
into  toothpicks  all  Chihun's  hut,  and  waited 
for  his  food.  He  eat  it,  and  the  brown  baby 
crawled  away.  Moti  Guj  dozed  and  thought  of 
Deesa,  One  of  many  mysteries  connected  with 
the  elephant  is  that  his  huge  body  needs  less 
sleep  than  anything  else  that  lives.  Four  or 
five  hours  in  the  night  suffice — two  just  before 
midnight,  lynig  down  on  one  side;  two  just 
after  one  o'clock,  lying  down  on  the  other. 
The  rest  of  the  silent  hours  are  filled  with  eat- 
ing and  fidgeting,  and  long  grumbling  solilo- 
quies. 

At  midnight,  therefore,  Moti  Guj  strode  out 


160  MOTI  GVJ-MUTINEER. 

of  his  pickets,  for  a  thought  had  come  to  him 
that  Deesa  might  by  lying  drunk  somewhere 
in  the  dark  forest  with  none  to  look  after  him. 
So  all  that  night  he  chased  through  the  under- 
growth, blowing  and  trumpeting  and  shaking 
his  ears.  He  went  down  to  the  river  and 
blared  across  the  shallows  where  Deesa  used  to 
wash  him,  but  there  was  no  answer.  He  could 
not  find  Deesa,  but  he  disturbed  all  the  other 
elephants  in  the  lines,  and  nearly  frightened 
to  death  some  gypsies  in  the  woods. 

At  dawn  Deesa  returned  to  the  plantation. 
He  had  been  very  drunk  indeed,  and  he 
expected  to  get  into  trouble  for  outstaying  his 
leave.  He  drew  a  long  breath  when  he  saw 
that  the  bungalow  and  the  plantation  were  still 
uninjured,  for  he  knew  something  of  Moti 
Guj's  temper,  and  reported  himself  with  many 
lies  and  salaams.  Moti  Guj  had  gone  to  his 
pickets  for  breakfast.  The  night  exercise  had 
made  him  hungry. 

"Call  up  your  beast,"  said  the  planter;  and 
Deesa  shouted  in  the  mysterious  elephant  lan- 
guage that  some  mahouts  believe  came  from 
China  at  the  birth  of  the  world,  when  ele- 
phants and  not  men  were  masters.  Moti  Guj 
heard  and  came.  Elephants  do  not  gallop. 
They  move  from  places  at  varying  rates  of 
speed.  If  an  elephant  wished  to  catch  an 
express  train  he  could  not  gallop,  but  he  could 
catch  the  train.  So  Moti  Guj  was  at  the 
planter's  door  almost  before  Chihun  noticed 
that  he  had  left  his  pickets.  He  fell  into 
Deesa's  arms  trumpeting  with  joy,  and  the 


MOTI   GUJ-MUTINEER.                  161  1 

i 

man  and  beast  wept  and  slobbered  over  each  \ 

other,   and  handled  each  other  from  head  to  ] 

heel  to  see  that  no  harm  had  befallen.  ■ 

**Now   we    will   get   to   work,"  said  Deesa.  j 
•*Lift  me  up,  my  son  and  my  joy!" 

Moti   Guj   swung  him  up,  and  the  two  went 

to    the    coffee-clearing    to    look    for   difficult  I 

stumps.  I 

The  planter  was  too  astonished  to  be  very 
a»fry. 


11    Dittiee 


THE  MUTINY    OF    THE   MAVER- 
ICKS. 


When  three  obscure  gentlemen  in  San 
Francisco  argued  on  insufficient  premises,  they 
condemned  a  .fellow-creature  to  a  most 
unpleasant  death  in  a  far  country  which  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  United  States. 
They  foregathered  at  the  top  of  a  tenement- 
house  in  Tehama  Street,  an  unsavory  quarter 
of  the  city,  and  there  calling  for  certain  drinks, 
they  conspired  because  they  were  conspirators 
by  trade,  officially  known  as  the  Third  Three 
of  the  I.  A.  A.— an  institution  for  the  propa- 
gation of  pure  light,  not  to  be  confounded 
with  any  others;  though  it  is  affiliated  to 
many.  The  Second  Three  live  in  Montreal 
and  work  among  the  poor  there;  the  First 
Three  have  their  home  in  New  York,  not  far 
from  Castle  Garden,  and  write  regularly  once 
a  week  to  a  small  house  near  one  of  the  big 
hotels  at  Boulogne.  What  happens  after  that, 
a  particular  section  of  Scotland  Yards  knows 
too  well  and  laughs  at.  A  conspirator  detests 
ridicule.  More  men  have  been  stabbed  with 
Lucrezia  Borgia  daggers  and  dropped  into  the 
Thames  for  laughing  at  head  centers  and  tri- 
162 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      163 

angles  than  for  betraying  secrets;  for  this  is 
human  nature. 

The  Third  Three  conspired  over  whisky- 
cocktails  and  a  clean  sheet  of  note-paper 
against  the  British  Empire  and  all  that  lay 
therein.  This  work  is  very  like  what  men 
without  discernment  call  politics  before  a 
general  election.  You  pick  out  and  discuss  in 
the  company  of  congenial  friends  all  the  weak 
points  in  your  opponents'  organization,  and 
unconsciously  dwell  upon  and  exaggerate  all 
their  mishaps,  till  it  seems  to  you  a  miracle 
that  the  party  holds  together  for  an  hour. 

*'Our  principle  is  not  so  much  active  demon- 
stration—that we  leave  to  others— as  passive 
embarrassment  to  weaken  and  unnerve,"  said 
the  first  man.  *' Wherever  an  organization  is 
crippled,  wherever  a  confusion  is  thrown  into 
any  branch  of  any  department,  we  gain  a  step 
for  those  who  take  on  the  work ;  we  are  but  the 
forerunners."  He  was  a  German  enthusiast, 
and  editor  of  a  newspaper,  from  whose  leading 
articles  he  quoted  frequently. 

"That  cursed  empire  makes  so  many 
blunders  of  her  own  that  unless  we  doubled 
the  year's  average  I  guess  it  wouldn't  strike 
her  anything  special  had  occurred,"  said  the 
second  man.  "Are  you  prepared  to  say  that 
all  our  resources  are  equal  to  blowing  off  the 
muzzle  of  a  hundred-ton  gun  or  spiking  -^  ten- 
thousand-ton  ship  on  a  plain  rock  in  clear  day- 
light?  They  can  beat  us  at  our  game.  Better 
30m  hands  with  the  practical  branches-  we're 
in  funds  now.     Try   and   direct  a   scare  in   a 


164     THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

crowded  street.  They  value  their  greasy 
hides. "  He  was  the  drag  upon  the  wheel,  and 
an  Americanized  Irishman  of  the  second  gen- 
eration, despising  his  own  race  and  hating  the 
other.     He  had  learned  caution. 

The  third  man  drank  his  cocktail  and  spoke 
no  word.  He  was  the  strategist,  but  unfort- 
unately his  knowledge  of  life  was  limited.  He 
picked  a  letter  from  his  breast-pocket  and 
threw  it  across  the  table.  That  epistle  to  the 
heathen  contained  some  very  concise  directions 
from  the  First   Three  in  New  York.     It  said : 

"The  boom  in  black  iron  has  already  affected 
the  eastern  markets,  where  our  agents  have 
been  forcing  down  the  English-held  stock 
among  the  smaller  buyers  who  watch  the  turn 
of  shares.  Any  immediate  operations,  such  as 
western  bears,  would  increase  their  willingness 
to  unload.  This,  however,  can  not  be 
expected  till  they  see  clearly  that  foreign  iron- 
masters are  willing  to  co-operate.  Mulcahy 
should  be  dispatched  to  feel  the  pulse  of  the 
market,  and  act  accordingly.  Mavericks  are 
at  present  the  best  for  our  purpose. — P.  D.  Q. 

As  a  message  referring  to  an  iron  crisis  in 
Pennsylvania  it  was  interesting,  if  not  lucid. 
As  a  new  departure  in  organized  attack  on  an 
outlying  English  dependency,  it  was  more 
than  interesting. 

The  first  man  read  it  through,  and  mur- 
mured : 

* 'Already?  Surely  they  are  in  too  great  a 
hurry.  All  that  Dhulip  Singh  could  do  in  In- 
dia he  has  done,  down  to  the  distribution  of  his 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      165 

photographs  among  the  peasantry.  Ho!  Ho! 
The  Paris  firm  arranged  that,  and  he  has  no 
substantial  money  backing  from  the  Other 
Power.  Even  our  agents  in  India  know  he 
hasn't.  What  is  the  use  of  our  organization 
wasting  men  on  work  that  is  already  done? 
Of  course,  the  Irish  regiments  in  India  are  half 
mutinous  as  they  stand." 

This  shows  how  near  a  lie  may  come  to  the 
truth.  An  Irish  regiment,  for  just  so  long  as 
it  stands  still,  is  generally  a  hard  handful  to 
control,  being  reckless  and  rough.  When, 
however,  it  is  moved  in  the  direction  of  mus- 
ketry-fire, it  becomes  strangely  and  unpatriot- 
ically  content  with  its  lot.  It  has  even  been 
heard  to  cheer  the  queen  with  enthusiasm  on 
these  occasions. 

But  the  notion  of  tampering  with  the  army 
was,  from  the  point  of  view  of  Tehama  Street, 
an  altogether  sound  one.  There  is  no  shadow 
of  stability  in  the  policy  of  an  English  govern- 
ment, and  the  most  sacred  oaths  of  England 
would,  even  if  embossed  on  vellum,  find  very 
few  buyers  among  colonies  and  dependencies 
that  have  suffered  from  vain  beliefs.  But 
there  remains  to  England  always  her  army. 
That  can  not  change,  except  in  the  matter  of 
uniform  and  equipment.  The  officers  may 
write  to  the  papers  demanding  the  heads  of  the 
Horse  Guards  in  default  of  cleaner  redress  for 
grievances;  the  men  may  break  loose  across  a 
country  town,  and  seriously  startle  the  publi- 
cans, but  neither  officers  nor  men  have  it  in 
their  composition  to   mutiny  after  the  Conti- 


166     THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

nental  manner.  The  English  people,  when 
they  trouble  to  think  about  the  army  at  all, 
are,  and  with  justice,  absolutely  assured  that  it 
is  absolutely  trustworthy.  Imagine  for  a 
moment  their  emotions  on  realizing  that  such 
and  such  a  regiment  was  in  open  revolt  from 
causes  directly  due  to  England's  management 
of  Ireland.  They  would  probably  send  the 
regiment  to  the  polls  forthwith,  and  examine 
their  own  consciences  as  to  their  duty  to  Erin, 
but  they  would  never  be  easy  any  more. 
And  it  was  this  vague,  unhappy  mistrust  that 
the  I.  A.  A.  was  laboring  to  produce. 

*' Sheer  waste  of  breath,"  said  the  second 
man,  after  a  pause  in  the  council.  **I  don't 
see  the  use  of  tampering  with  their  fool-army, 
but  it  has  been  tried  before,  and  we  must  try 
it  again.  It  looks  well  in  the  reports.  If  we 
send  one  man  froni  here,  you  many  bet  your 
life  that  other  men  are  going  too.  Order  up 
Mulcahy. " 

They  ordered  him  up — c  slim,  slight,  dark- 
haired  young  man,  devoured  with  that  blind, 
rancorous  hatred  of  England  that  only  reaches 
its  full  growth  across  the  Atlantic.  He  had 
sucked  it  from  his  mother's  breast  in  the  little 
cabin  at  the  back  of  the  northern  avenues  of 
New  York ;  he  had  been  taught  his  rights  and 
his  wrongs,  in  German  and  Irish,  on  the  canal 
fronts  of  Chicago ;  and  San  Francisco  held  men 
who  told  him  strange  and  awful  things  of  the 
great  blind  power  over  the  seas.  Once,  when 
business  took  him  across  the  Atlantic,  he  had 
served  in  an  English  regiment,  and  being  in  sub- 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      167 

ordinate,  had  suffered  extremely.  He  drew  all 
his  ideas  of  England  that  were  not  bred  by  the 
cheaper  patriotic  print,  from  one  iron-fisted 
colonel  and  an  unbending  adjutant.  He  would 
go  to  the  mines  if  need  be  to  teach  his  gospel. 
And  he  went  as  his  instructions  advised,  p.  d. 
q. — which  means  "with  speed" — to  introduce 
embarrassment  into  an  Irish  regiment,  ''al- 
ready half  mutinous,  quartered  among  Sikh 
peasantry,  all  wearing  miniaturesof  His  High- 
ness Dhulip  Singh,  Maharaja  of  the  Punjab, 
next  their  hearts,  and  all  eagerly  expecting 
his  arrival."  Other  information  equally  valu- 
able was  given  him  by  his  masters.  He  was 
to  be  cautious,  but  never  to  grudge  expense  in 
winning  the  hearts  of  the  men  in  the  regiment. 
His  mother  in  New  York  would  supply  funds, 
and  he  was  to  write  to  her  once  a  month.  Life 
is  pleasant  for  a  man  who  has  a  mother  in  New 
York  to  send  him  ;£"2oo  a  year  over  and  above 
his  regimental  pay. 

In  process  of  time,  thanks  to  his  intimate 
knowledge  of  drill  and  musketry  exercise,  the 
excellent  Mulcahy,  wearing  the  corporal's 
stripe,  went  out  in  a  troop-ship  and  joined  Her 
Majesty's  Royal  Loyal  Musketeers,  commonly 
known  as  the  "Mavericks,"  because  they  were 
masterless  and  unbranded  cattle— sons  of  small 
farmers  in  County  Clare,  shoeless  vagabonds 
of  Kerry,  herders  of  Ballyvegan,  much  wanted 
"moonlighters"  from  the  bare  rainy  headlands 
of  the  south  coast,  officered  by  O'Mores, 
Bradys,  Hills,  Kilreas,  and  the  like.  Never, 
to  outward  seeming,  was  there  more  promising 


168      THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

material  to  work  on.  The  First  Three  had 
chosen  their  regiment  well.  It  feared  nothing 
that  moved  or  talked  save  the  colonel  and  the 
regimental  Roman  Catholic  chaplain,  the  fat 
Father  Dennis,  who  held  the  keys  of  heaven 
and  hell,  and  glared  like  an  angry  bull  when 
he  desired  to  be  convincinof.  Him  also  it 
loved  because  on  occasions  of  stress  he  was 
wont  to  tuck  up  his  cassock  and  charge  with 
the  rest  into  the  merriest  of  the  fray,  where  he 
always  found,  good  man,  that  the  saints  sent 
him  a  revolver  when  there  w^as  a  fallen  private 
to  be  protected  or — but  this  came  as  an  after- 
thought— his  own  gray  head  to  be  guarded. 

Cautiously  as  he  had  been  instructed,  ten- 
derly and  with  much  beer,  Mulcahy  opened  his 
projects  to  such  as  he  deemed  fittest  to  listen. 
And  these  were,  one  and  all,  of  that  quaint, 
crooked,  sweet,  profoundly  irresponsible,  and 
profoundly  lovable  race  that  fight  like  fiends, 
argue  like  children,  reason  like  women,  obey 
like  men,  and  jest  like  their  own  goblins  of 
the  wrath  through  rebellion,  loyalty,  want, 
woe,  or  war.  The  underground  work  of  a  con- 
spiracy is  always  dull,  and  very  much  the  same 
the  world  over.  At  the  end  of  six  months — 
the  seed  always  falling  on  good  ground — Mul- 
cahy spoke  almost  explicitly,  hinting  darkly  in 
the  approved  fashion  at  dread  powers  behind 
him,  and  advising  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
mutiny.  Were  they  not  dogs,  evilly  treated? 
had  they  not  all  their  own  and  the  natural 
revenges  to  satisfy?  Who  in  these  days  could 
do  aught  to  nine  hundred  men  in  rebellion? 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      169 

who,  again,  could  stay  them  if  they  broke  for 
the  sea,  licking  up  on  their  way  other  regi- 
ments only  too  anxious  to  join?  And  after- 
ward .  .  .  here  followed  windy  promises  of 
gold  and  preferment,  office  and  honor,  ever 
dear  to  a  certain  type  of  Irishman. 

As  he  finished  his  speech,  in  the  dusk  of  a 
twilight,  to  his  chosen  associates,  there  was  a 
sound  of  a  rapidly  unslung  belt  behind  him. 
The  arm  of  one  Dan  Grady  flew  out  in  the 
gloom  and  arrested  something.  Then  said 
Dan: 

*'Mulcahy,  you're  a  great  man,  an*  you  do 
credit  to  whoever  sent  you.  Walk  about  a  bit 
while  we  think  ofit. "  Mulcahy  departed 
elated.     He  knew  his  words  would  sink  deep. 

"Why  the  triple-dashed  asterisks  did  ye  not 
let  -me  curl  the  tripes  out  of  him?"  grunted  a 
voice. 

*' Because  I'm  not  a  fat-headed  fool.  Boys, 
'tis  what  he's  been  driving  at  these  six  months 
— our  superior  corpril,  with  his  education,  and 
his  copies  of  the  Irish  papers,  and  his  everlast- 
ing beer.  He's  been  sent  for  the  purpose,  and 
that's  where  the  money  comes  from.  Can  ye 
not  see?  That  man's  a  gold-mine,  which 
Horse  Egan  here  would  have  destroyed  with  a 
belt-buckle.  It  would  be  throwing  away  the 
giftg  of  Providence  not  to  fall  in  with  his  little 
plans.  Of  course  we'll  mutiny  till  all's  dry. 
Shoot  the  colonel  on  the  parade-ground,  mas- 
sacre the  company  officers,  ransack  the  arsenal, 
and  then — boys,  did  he  tell  you  what  next? 
He  told  me  the  other  night,  when  he  was  be- 


170      THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

ginning  to  talk  wild.  Then  we're  to  join  with 
the  niggers,  and  look  for  help  from  Dhulip 
Singh  and  the  Russians!" 

"And  spoil  the  best  campaign  that  ever  was 
this  side  of  hell!  Danny,  I'd  have  lost  the 
beer  to  ha*  given  him  the  belting  he  requires. " 

"Oh,  let  him  go  this  a  while,  man!  He's  got 
no — no  constructiveness;  but  that's  the  egg- 
meat  of  his  plan,  and  you  must  understand 
that  I'm  in  with  it,  an'  so  are  you.  We'll 
want  oceans  of  beer  to  convince  us — firmaments 
full.  We'll  give  him  talk  for  his  money,  and 
one  by  one  all  the  boys'll  come  in,  and  he'll 
have  a  nest  of  nine  hundred  mutineers  to  squat 
in  an'  give  drink  to." 

"What  makes  me  killing  mad  is  his  wanting 
us  to  do  what  the  niggers  did  thirty  years  gone. 
That  an'  his  pig's  cheek  in  saying  that  other 
regiments  would  come  along,"  said  a  Kerry 
man. 

"That's  not  so  bad  as  hintin'  we  should 
loose  off  at  the  colonel.  " 

"Colonel  be  sugared !  I'd  as  soon  as  not  put 
a  shot  through  his  helmet,  to  see  him  jump  and 
clutch  his  old  horses'  head.  But  Mulcahy 
talks  o'  shootin'  our  comp'ny  orf'cers  acciden- 
tal." 

**He  said  that,  did  he?"  said  Horse  Egan. 

"Somethin*  like  that,  anyways.  Can't  ye 
fancy  ould  Barber  Brady  wid  a  bullet  in  hisj 
lungs,  coughin'  like  a  sick  monkey  an'  sayin': 
*Bhoys,  I  do  not  mind  your  gettin'  dhrunk,  but 
you  must  hould  your  liquor  like  men.  The 
man  that    shot    me  is  dhrunk.     I'll  suspend 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      171 

investigations    for    six  hours,  while  I  get  this 
bullet  cut  out,  and  then '  " 

*'An'  then,"  continued  Horse  Egan,  for  the 
peppery  major's  peculiarities  of  speech  and 
manner  were  as  well  known  as  his  tanned  face 
— *'an'  then,  ye  dissolute,  half-baked,  putty- 
faced  scum  o'  Connemara,  if  I  find  a  man  so 
much  as  lookin'  confused,  bedad  I'll  coort- 
martial  the  whole  company.  A  man  that  can't 
get  over  his  liquor  in  six  hours  is  not  fit  to 
belong  to  the  Mavericks!" 

A  shout  of  laughter  bore  witness  to  the  truth 
of  the  sketch. 

"It's  pretty  to  think  of,"  said  the  Kerry 
man  slowly.  '*Mulcahy  would  have  us  do  all 
the  devilment,  and  get  clear  himself,  some- 
ways.  He  wudn't  be  takin'  all  this  fool's 
throuble  in  shpoilin'  the  reputation  of  the  regi- 
ment." 

''Reputation  of  your  grandmother's  pig!" 
said  Dan. 

"Well,  an*  he  had  a  good  reputation,  too;  so 
it's  all  right.  Mulcahy  must  see  his  way  clear 
out  behind  him,  or  he'd  not  ha'  come  so  far, 
talkin'  powers  of  darkness." 

"Did  you  hear  anything  of  a  regimental 
court-martial  among  the  Black  Boneens,  these 
days?  Half  a  company  of  'em  took  one  of  the 
new  draft  an'  hanged  him  by  his  arms  with  a 
tent-rope  from  a  third-story  veranda.  They 
gave  no  reason  for  so  doin',  but  he  was  half 
head.  I'm  thinking  that  the  Boneens  are 
short-sighted.  It  was  a  friend  of  Mulcahy's, 
or  a  man  in  the  same  trade.     They'd  a  deal 


172      THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

better  ha'  taken  his  beer,"  returned  Dan, 
reflectively. 

**  Better  still  ha'  handed  him  up  to  the 
colonel,"  said  Horse  Egan,  **onless —  But  sure 
the  news  wud  be  all  over  the  counthry  an*  give 
the  reg'ment  a  bad  name." 

"An'  there'll  be  no  reward  for  that  man — 
but  he  went  about  talkin',"  said  the  Kerry 
man,  artlessly. 

"You  speak  by  your  breed,"  said  Dan,  with 
a  laugh.  "There  was  never  a  Kerry  man  yet 
that  wudn't  sell  his  brother  for  a  pipe  o* 
tobacco  an'  a  pat  on  the  back  from  a  police- 
man." 

"Thank  God  I'm  not  a  bloomin'  Orange- 
man," was  the  answer. 

"No,  nor  never  will  be,"  said  Dan.  "They 
breed  men  in  Ulster.  Would  you  like  to  thry 
the  taste  of  one?" 

The  Kerry  man  looked  and  longed,  but  fore- 
bore.     The  odds  of  battle  were  too  great. 

"Then  you'll  not  even  give  Mulcahy  a — a 
strike  for  his  money,"  said  the  voice  of  Horse 
Egan,  who  regarded  what  he  called  "trouble" 
of  any  kind  as  the  pinnacle  of  felicity. 

Dan  answered  not  at  all,  but  crept  on  tiptoe, 
with  large  strides,  to  the  mess-room,  the  men 
following.  The  room  was  empty.  In  a 
corner,  cased  like  the  King  of  Dahomey's  state 
umbrella,  stood  the  regimental  colors.  Dan 
lifted  them  tenderly,  and  unrolled  in  the  light 
of  the  candles  the  record  of  the  Mavericks — 
tattered,  worn,  and  hacked.  The  white  satin 
was    darkened    everywhere    with    big  brown 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      173 

stains,  the  gold  threads  on  the  crowned  harp 
were  frayed  and  discolored,  and  the  red  bull, 
the  totem  of  the  Mavericks,  was  coffee-hued. 
The  stiff,  embroidered  folds,  whose  price  is 
human  life,  rustled  down  slowly.  The  Maver- 
icks keep  their  colors  long  and  guard  them 
very  sacredly. 

**Vittoria,  Salamanca,  Toulouse,  Waterloo. 
Moodkee,  Ferozshah,  and  Sobraon — that  was 
fought  close  next  door  here,  against  the  very 
beggars  he  wants  us  to  join.  Inkermann,  the 
Alma,  Sebastopol!  What  are  those  little  busi- 
nesses compared  to  the  campaigns  of  General 
Mulcahy?  The mut'ny,thinko' that;  themut'ny 
an'  some  dirty  little  matters  in  Afghanistan, 
and  for  that  an'  these  and  those" — Dan 
pointed  to  the  names  of  glorious  battles — "that 
Yankee  man  with  the  partin'  in  his  hair  comes 
and  says  as  easy  as  *have  a  drink'  .  .  .  Holy 
Moses!  there's  the  captain!" 

But  it  was  the  mess-sergeant  who  came  in 
just  as  the  men  clattered  out,  and  found  the 
colors  uncased. 

From  that  day  dated  the  mutiny  of  the  Mav- 
ericks, to  the  joy  of  Mulcahy  and  the  pride  of 
his  mother  in  New  York — the  good  lady  who 
sent  the  money  for  the  beer.  Never,  as  far  as 
words  went,  was  such  a  mutiny.  The  conspir- 
ators, led  by  Dan  Grady  and  Horse  Egan, 
poured  in  daily.  They  were  sound  men,  men 
to  be  trusted,  and  they  all  wanted  blood ;  but 
first  they  must  have  beer.  They  cursed  the 
queen,  they  mourned  over  Ireland,  they  sug- 
gested hideous  plunder  of  the  Indian  country- 


174     THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

side,  and  then,  alas!  some  of  the  younger  men 
would  go  forth  and  wallow  on  the  ground  in 
spasms  of  unholy  laughter.  The  genius  of 
the  Irish  for  conspiracies  is  remarkable.  None 
the  less,  they  would  swear  no  oaths  but  those 
of  their  own  making,  which  were  rare  and 
curious,  and  they  were  always  at  pains  to 
impress  Mulcahy  with  the  risks  they  ran. 
Naturally  the  flood  of  beer  wrought  demoral- 
ization. But  Mulcahy  confused  the  causes  of 
things,  and  when  a  pot-valiant  Maverick  smote 
a  servant  on  the  nose  or  called  his  command- 
ing officer  a  bald-headed  old  lard-bladder,  and 
even  worse  names,  he  fancied  that  rebellion 
and  not  liquor  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  out- 
break. Other  gentlemen  who  have  concerned 
themselves  in  larger  conspiracies  have  made 
the  same  error. 

The  hot  season,  in  which  they  protested  no 
man  could  rebel,  came  to  an  end,  and  Mulcahy 
suggested  a  visible  return  for  his  teachings. 
As  to  the  actual  upshot  of  the  mutiny  he  cared 
nothing.  It  would  be  enough  if  the  English, 
infatuatedly  trusting  to  the  integrity  of  their 
army,  should  be  startled  with  news  of  an  Irish 
regiment  revolting  from  political  considera- 
tions.  His  persistent  demands  would  have 
ended,  at  Dan's  instigation,  in  a  regimental 
belting  which  in  all  probability  would  have 
killed  him  and  cut  off  the  supply  of  beer,  had 
not  he  been  sent  on  special  duty  some  fifty 
miles  away  from  the  cantonment  to  cool  his 
heels  in  a  mud  fort  and  dismount  obsolete 
artillery.     Then  the  colonel  of  the  Mavericks, 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS,     m 

reading  his  newspaper  diligently  and  scenting 
frontier  trouble  from  afar,  posted  to  the  army 
headquarters  and  pleaded  with  the  commander- 
in-chief  for  certain  privileges,  to  be  granted 
under  certain  contingencies;  which  contingen- 
cies came  about  only  a  week  later  when  the 
annual  little  war  on  the  border  developed  itself 
and  the  colonel  returned  to  carry  the  good 
news  to  the  Mavericks.  He  held  the  promise 
of  the  chief  for  active  service,  and  the  men 
must  get  ready. 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  Mulcahy, 
an  unconsidered  corporal — yet  great  in  con- 
spiracy— returned  to  cantonments,  and  heard 
sounds  of  strife  and  bowlings  from  afar  off. 
The  mutiny  had  broken  out,  and  the  barracks 
of  the  Mavericks  were  one  whitewashed  pan- 
demonium. A  private  tearing  through  the 
barrack  square  gasped  in  his  ear:  "Service! 
Active  service!  It's  a  burnin' shame. "  Oh, 
joy,  the  Mavericks  had  risen  on  the  eve  of 
battle!  They  would  not — noble  and  loyal  sons 
of  Ireland! — serve  the  queen  longer.  The 
news  would  flash  through  the  country-side  and 
over  to  England,  and  he — Mulcahy — the  trusted 
of  the  Third  Three,  had  brought  about  the 
crash.  The  private  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
square  and  cursed  colonel,  regiment,  officers, 
and  doctor,  particularly  the  doctor,  by  his  gods. 
An  orderly  of  the  native  cavalry  regiment 
clattered  through  the  mob  of  soldiers.  He 
was  half  lifted,  half  dragged  from  his  horse, 
beaten  on  the  back  with  mighty  hand-claps 
till  his  eyes  watered,  and  called  all  manner  of 


176     THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

endearing  names.  Yes,  the  Mavericks  had 
fraternized  with  the  native  troops.  Who,  then, 
was  the  agent  among  the  latter  that  had 
blindly  wrought  with  Mulcahy  so  well? 

An  officer  slunk,  almost  ran,  from  the  mess 
to  a  barrack.  He  was  mobbed  by  the  infuri- 
ated soldiery,  who  closed  round  but  did  not  kill 
him,  for  he  fought  his  way  to  shelter,  flying 
for  his  life.  Mulcahy  could  have  wept  with 
pure  joy  and  thankfulness.  The  very  pris- 
oners in  the  guard-room  were  shaking  the  bars 
of  their  cells  and  howling  like  wild  beasts,  and 
from  every  barrack  poured  the  booming  as  of 
a  big  war-drum. 

Mulcahy  hastened  to  his  own  barrack.  He 
could  hardly  hear  himself  speak.  Eighty  mei 
were  pounding  with  fist  and  heel  the  tabl^ 
and  trestles — eighty  men  flushed  with  mutijp 
stripped  to  their  shirt-sleeves,  their  kj 
half-packed  for  the  march  to  the  sea,  nfade  the 
two  inch  boards  thunder  again  as  they  chanted 
to  a  tune  that  Mulcahy  knew  well,  the  Sacred 
War  Song  of  the  Mavericks: 

"Listen  in  the  north,  my  boys,  there's  trouble  on  the 

wind; 
Tramp  o'  Cossacks  hoofs  in  front,  gray   great-coats 

behind, 
Trouble  on  the  frontier  of  a  most  amazin'  kind, 
Trouble  on  the  water  o*  the  Oxus!" 

Then  as  a  table  broke  under  the  furious 
accompaniment : 

•'Hurrah!  hurrah!  its  north  by  west  we  go: 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  the  chance  we  wanted  so; 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      177 

Let  "em  hear  the  chorus  from  Umballa  to  Moscow, 
As  we  go  marching  to  the  Kremlin." 

**  Mother  of  all  the  saints  in  bliss  and  all  the 
devils  in  cinders,  where's  my  fine  new  sock 
widout  the  heel?"  howled  Horse  Egan,  ran- 
sacking everybody's  knapsack  but  his  own. 
He  was  engaged  in  making  up  deficiencies  of 
kit  preparatory  to  a  campaign,  and  in  that 
employ  he  steals  best  who  steals  last.  **Ah, 
Mulcahy,  you're  in  good  time,"  he  shouted! 
"We've  got  the  route,  and  we're  off  on  Thurs- 
day for  a  picnic  wid  the  Lancers  next  door. " 

An  ambulance  orderly  appeared  with  a  huge 
basket  full  of  lint  rolls,  provided  by  the  fore- 
thought of  the  queen,  for  such  as  might  need 
them  later  on.  Horse  Egan  unrolled  his  band- 
age and  flicked  it  under  Mulcahy's  nose,  chant- 
ing: 

•••Sheep's    skin  an'    bees'-wa::.    thunder,    pitch    and 
plaster ;  ^ 

The  more  you  try  to  pull  it  off,  the  mor^  it  sticks   the 
faster, 
As  I  was  goin'  to  New  Orleans ' 

You  know  the  rest  of  it,  my  Ir!sh-American«= 
Jew  boy.  By  gad,  ye  have  to  fight  for  the 
queen  m  the  inside  av  a  fortnight,  my  darlin'. " 
A  roar  of  laughter  interrupted.  Mulcaliy 
looked  vacantly  down  the  room.  Bid  a  bo)' 
defy  his  father  when  the  pantomime-cab  is  at 
the  door,  or  a  girl  develop  a  will  of  her  own 
when  her  mother  is  putting  the  last  touches  to 
the  first  ball-dress,  but  do  not  ask  an  Irish 
regiment  to   embark  upon   mutiny  on  the  eve 

i2    Ditties 


178      THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

of  a  campaign;  when  it  has  fraternized  with 
the  native  regiment  that  accompanies  it,  and 
driven  its  officers  into  retirement  v/ith  ten 
thousand  clamorous  questions,  and  the  pris- 
oners dance  for  joy,  and  the  sick  men  stand  in 
the  open,  calling  down  all  known  diseases  on 
the  head  of  the  doctor  who  has  certified  that 
they  are  *' medically  unfit  for  active  service." 
And  even  the  Mavericks  might  have  been  mis- 
taken for  mutineers  by  one  so  unversed  in 
their  natures  as  Mulcahy.  At  dawn  a  girls* 
school  might  have  learned  deportment  from 
them.  They  knew  that  their  colonel's  hand 
had  closed,  and  that  he  who  broke  that  iron 
discipline  would  not  go  to  the  front.  Nothing 
in  the  world  wil?.  persuade  one  of  our  soldiers 
when  ho  is  ordered  to  the  north  on  the  smallest 
oi  affairs,  that  he  is  not  immediately  going 
gloriously  to  slay  Cossacks  and  cook  his  kettles 
in  the  palace  of  the  czar.  A  few  of  the 
younger  men  mourned  for  Mulcahy's  beer, 
because  the  campaign  was  to  be  conducted  on 
strict  temperance  principles,  but,  as  Dan  and 
Horse  Egan  said  sternly:  ''We've  got  the 
beerman  with  us;  he  shall  drink  now  on  his 
own  hook. " 

Mulcahy  had  not  taken  into  account  the 
possibility  of  being  sent  on  active  service.  He 
had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  not  go 
under  any  circumstances;  but  fortune  was 
against  him. 

"Sick — you?"  said  the  doctor,  who  had  served 
an  unholy  apprenticeship  to  his  trade  in  Tralee 
poor-houses.     "You're     only    homesick,    and 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      179 

what  you  call  varicose  veins  come  for  over- 
eating. A  little  gentle  exercise  will  cure  that. ' ' 
And  later:  *'Mulcahy,  my  man,  everybody  is 
allowed  to  apply  for  a  sick  certificate  once.  If 
he  tries  it  twice,  we  call  him  an  ugly  name. 
Go  back  to  your  duty,  and  let's  hear  no  more 
of  your  diseases." 

I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  Horse  Egan 
enjoyed  the  study  of  Mulcahy's  soul  in  those 
days,  and  Dan  took  an  equal  interest.  To- 
gether they  would  communicate  to  their  cor- 
poral all  the  dark  lore  of  death  that  is  the  por- 
tion of  those  who  have  seen  men  die.  Egan 
had  the  larger  experience,  but  Dan  the  finer 
imagination.  Mulcahy  shivered  when  the 
former  spoke  of  the  knife  as  an  intimate 
acquaintance,  or  the  latter  dwelt  with  loving 
particularity  on  the  fate  of  those  who, 
wounded  and  helpless,  had  been  overlooked  by 
the  ambulances,  and  had  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  Afghan  women-folk. 

Mulcahy  knew  that  the  mutiny,  for  the 
present  at  least,  was  dead.  Knew,  too,  that  a 
change  had  come  over  Dan's  usually  respectful 
attitude  toward  him,  and  Horse  Egan's  laugh- 
ter and  frequent  allusions  to  abortive  conspir- 
acies emphasized  all  that  the  conspirator  had 
guessed.  The  horrible  fascination  of  the  death- 
stories,  however,  made  him  seek  their  society. 
He  learned  much  more  than  he  had  bargained 
for;  and  in  this  manner.  It  was  on  the  last 
night  before  the  regiment  entrained  to  the 
front.  The  barracks  were  stripped  of  every- 
thing movable,  and  the  men  were  too  excited 


180      THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

to  sleep.  The  bare  walls  gave  out  a  heavy 
hospital  smell  of  chloride  of  lime,  a  stench  that 
depresses  the  soul. 

"And  what, "  said  Mulcahy  in  an  awe-striken 
whisper,  after  some  conversation  on  the  eternal 
subject,  "are  you  going  to  do  to  me,  Dan?" 
This  might  have  been  the  language  of  an  able 
conspirator  conciliating  a  weak  spirit. 

"You'll  see,"  said  Dan,  grimly,  turning  over 
in  his  cot,  "or  I  rather  shud  say  you'll  not  see. " 

This  was  hardly  the  language  of  a  weak 
spirit.     Mulcahy  shook  under  the  bed-clothes. 

"Be  easy  with  him,"  put  in  Egan  from  the 
next  cot.  "He  has  got  his  chanst  o'  goin' 
clean.  Listen,  Mulcahy:  all  we  want  is  for 
the  good  sake  of  the  regiment  that  you  take 
your  death  standing  up,  as  a  man  shud.  There 
be  heaps  an'  heaps  of  enemy — plenshus  heaps. 
Go  there  an'  do  all  you  can  and  die  decent. 
You'll  die  with  a  good  name  there.  'Tis  not 
a  hard  thing  considerin'. " 

Again  Mulcahy  shivered. 

"And  how  could  a  man  wish  to  die  better 
than  fightin'?"  added  Dan  consolingly. 

"And  if  I  won't?"  said  the  corporal  in  a  dry 
whisper. 

"There'll  be  a  dale  of  smoke,"  returned 
Dan,  sitting  up  and  ticking  off  the  situation  on 
his  fingers,  "sure  to  be,  an'  the  noise  of  the 
firin'  '11  be  tremenjus,  an'  we'll  be  running 
about  up  and  down,  the  regiment  will.  But 
we,  Horse  and  I — we'll  stay  by  you,  Mulcahy, 
and  never  let  you  go.  Maybe  there'll  be  an 
accident." 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      181 

"It's  playing  it  low  on  me.  Let  me  go. 
For  pity's  sake,  let  me  go!  I  never  did  you 
harm,  and — and  I  stood  you  as  much  beer  as  I 
could.  Oh,  don't  be  hard  on  me,  Dan!  You 
are — you  were  in  it,  too.  You  won't  kill  me 
up  there,  will  you?" 

"I'm  not  thinkin'  of  the  treason ;  though  you 
shud  be  glad  any  honest  boys  drank  with  you. 
It's  for  the  regiment.  We  can't  have  the 
shame  o'  you  bringin'  .:hame  on  us.  You  went 
to  the  doctor  quiet  as  a  sick  cat  to  get  and  stay 
behind  an'  live  with  the  women  at  the  depot — 
you  that  wanted  us  to  run  to  the  sea  in  wolf- 
packs  like  the  rebels  none  of  your  black  blood 
dared  to  be!  But  we  knew  about  your  goin' 
to  the  doctor,  for  he  told  it  in  mess,  and  it's 
all  over  the  regiment.  Bein'  as  we  are  your 
best  friends,  we  didn't  allow  any  one  to  molest 
you  yet  We  \7ill  see  to  you  ourselves.  Fight 
which  you  will — us  or  Ihc  enemy — you'll  never 
lie  in  that  cot  again,  and  there's  more  glory 
and  maybe  less  kicks  from  fighting  the  enemy. 
That's  fair  speakin'. " 

"And  he  told  us  by  word  of  mouth  to  go  and 
join  with  the  niggers — you've  forgotten  that, 
Dan,"  said  Horse  Egan,  to  justify  sentence. 

"What's  the  use  of  plaguin'  the  man?  One 
shot  pays  for  all.  Sleep  ye  sound,  Mulcahy. 
But  you  onderstand,  do  yet  not?" 

Mulcahy  tor  some  weeks  understood  very 
little  of  anything  at  all  save  that  ever  at  his 
elbow,  in  camp^  or  at  parade,  stood  two  big 
men  with  soft  voices  adjuring  him  to  commit 
/lari  kari  lest  a  worse  thing  should  happen— to 


182      THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

die  for  the  honor  of  the  regiment  in  decency 
among  the  nearest  knives.  But  Mulcahy 
dreaded  death.  He  remembered  certain 
things  that  priests  had  said  in  his  infancy,  and 
his  mother — not  the  one  at  New  Xork — starting 
from  her  sleep  with  shrieks  to  pray  for  a  hus- 
band's soul  in  torment.  It  is  well  to  be  of  a 
cultured  intelligence,  but  in  times  of  trouble 
the  weak  human  m.ind  returns  to  the  creed  it 
sucked  in  at  the  breast,  and  if  that  creed  be 
not  a  pretty  one,  trouble  follows.  Also,  the 
death  he  would  have  to  face  would  be  physi- 
cally painful.  Most  conspirators  have  large 
imaginations.  Mulcahy  could  see  hiip.s€lf,  as 
he  lay  on  the  earth  in  the  nightT^dying  by 
various  causes.  They  were  all  horrible;  the 
mother  in  New  York  was  very  far  away,  and 
the  regiment,  the  engine  that,  once  you  fall  in 
its  grip,  moves  you  forward  whether  you  will 
or  won't,  was  daily  coming  closer  to  the  enemy! 
^-  *****         * 

They  were  brought  to  the  field  of  Marzun- 
Katai,  and  with  the  Black  Boneens  to  aid,  they 
fought  a  fight  that  has  never  been  set  down  in 
the  newspapers.  In  response,  many  believe, 
to  the  fervent  prayers  of  Father  Dennis,  the 
enemy  not  only  elected  to  fight  in  the  open, 
but  made  a  beautiful  fight,  as  many  weeping 
Irish  mothers  knew  later.  Thoy  gathered 
behind  walls  or  flickered  across  the  open  in 
shouting  masses,  and  were  pot-valiant  in 
artillery.  It  was  expedient  to  hold  a  large 
reserve  and  wait  for  the  psychological  moment 
that  was    being    prepared  by    the    shrieking 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      183 

shrapnel.  Therefore  the  Mavericks  lay  down 
in  open  order  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  to  watch  the 
play  till  their  call  should  come.  Father  Den- 
nis, whose  place  was  in  the  rear,  to  smooth  the 
trouble  of  the  wounded,  had  naturally  man- 
aged to  make  his  way  to  the  foremost  of  his 
boys,  and  lay,  like  a  black  porpoise,  at  length 
on  the  grass.  To  him  crawled  Mulcahy, 
ashen- gray,  demanding  absolution. 

"Wait  till  you're  shot,"  said  Father  Dennis, 
sweetly.     "There's  a  time  for  everything." 

Dan  Grady  chuckled  as  he  blew  for  the  fif- 
tieth time  into  the  breech  of  his  speckless  rifle. 
Mulcahy  groaned  and  buried  his  head  in  his 
arms  till  a  stray  shot  spoke  like  a  snipe  imme- 
diately above  his  head,  and  a  general  heave  and 
tremor  rippled  the  line.  Other  shots  followed, 
and  a  few  took  effect,  as  a  shriek  or  a  grunt 
attested.  The  officers,  who  had  been  lying 
down  with  the  men,  rose  and  began  to  walk 
steadily  up  and  down  the  front  of  their  com- 
panies. 

This  maneuver,  executed  not  for  publication, 
but  as  a  guarantee  of  good  faith,^  to  soothe 
men,  demands  nerve.  You  must  not  hurry, 
you  must  not  look  nervous,  though  you  know 
that  you  are  a  mark  for  every  rifle  within 
extreme  range;  and,  above  all,  if  you  are 
smitten  you  must  make  as  little  noise  as 
possible  and  roll  inward  through  the  files.  It 
is  at  this  hour,  when  the  breeze  brings  the  first 
salt  v/hiff  of  the  powder  to  noses  rather  cold  :.t 
the  tips,  and  the  eye  can  quietly  take  in  the 
appearance  of  each  red  casualty,  that  the  strain 


184    THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MA   ERICKS. 

on  the  nerves  is  strongest.  Scotch  regiments 
can  endure  for  half  a  day,  and  abate  no  whit 
of  their  zeal  at  the  end;  Enghsh  regiments 
sometimes  sulk  under  punishment,  while  the 
Irish,  like  the  French,  are  apt  to  run  forward 
by  ones  and  twos,  which  is  just  as  bad  as 
running  back.  The  truly  wise  commandant 
of  highly  strung  troops  allows  them  in  seasons 
of  waiting  to  hear  the  sound  of  their  own 
voices  uplifted  in  song.  There  is  a  legend  of 
an  English  regiment  that  lay  by  its  arms  under 
fire  chanting  "Sam  Hall,"  to  the  horror  of  its 
newly  appointed  and  pious  colonel.  The 
Black  Boneens,  who  were  suffering  more  than 
the  Mavericks,  on  a  hill  half  a  mile  away, 
began  presently  to  explain  to  all  who  cared  to 
listen: 

"We'll  sound  the  jubilee,  from  the  center  to  the  sea, 
And  Ireland  shall  be  free,  says  the  Shan-van- Voght. " 

•*Sing,  boys,"  said  Father  Dennis,  softly. 
* '  It  looks  as  if  we  cared  for  their  Afghan  peas. ' ' 

Dan  Grady  raised  himself  to  his  knees  and 
opened  his  mouth  in  a  song  imparted  to  him, 
as  ^.o  most  of  his  comrades,  in  the  strictest  con- 
fidence by  Mulcahy — that  Mulcahy  then  lying 
limp  and  fainting  on  the  grass,  the  chill  fear  of 
death  upon  him. 

Company  after  company  caught  up  the  words 
which,  the  I.  A.  A.  say,  are  to  herald  the  gen- 
eral rising  of  Erin,  and  to  breathe  which,  ex- 
cept to  those  duly  appointed  to  hear,  is  death. 
Wherefore  they  are  printed  in  this  place: 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      185 

'The  Saxon  in  heaven's  just  balance  is  weighed, 

His  doom,  like  Belshazzar's,  in  death  has  been  cast, 
And  the  hand  of  the  'venger  shall  never  be  stayed 
Till  his  race,    faith,  and  speech  are  a  dream  of  the 
past, ' ' 

They  were  heart-filling  lines,  and  they  ran 
with  a  swirl;  the  I.  A.  A.  are  better  served  by 
pens  than  their  petards.  Dan  clapped  Mul- 
cahy  merrily  on  the  back,  asking  him  to  sing- 
up.  The  officers  lay  down  again.  There  was 
no  need  to  walk  any  more.  Their  men  were 
soothing  themselves,  thunderously,  thus: 

"St.  Mary  in  heaven  has  written  the  vow 
That  the  land  shall  not  rest  till  the  heretic  blood. 

From  the  babe  at  the  breast  to  the  hand  at  the  plow, 
Has  rolled  to  the  ocean  like  Shannon  in  flood !" 

*'ril  speak  to  you  after  all's  over,"  said 
Father  Dennis,  authoritatively,  in  Dan's  ear. 
•'What's  the  use  of  confessing  to  me  when  you 
,do  this  foolishness?  Dan,  you've  been  playing 
with  fire!  I'll  lay  you  more  penance  in  a  week 
than—" 

"Come  along  to  purgatory  with  us,  father, 
dear.  The  Boneens  are  on  the  move ,  they'll 
let  us  go  now!" 

The  regiment  rose  to  the  blast  of  the  bugle 
as  one  man;  but  one  man  there  was  who  rose 
more  swiftly  than  all  the  others,  for  half  an 
inch  of  bayonet  was  in  the  fleshy  part  of  his  leg. 

"You've  got  to  do  it,"  said  Dan,  grimly. 
**Do  it  decent,  anyhow;*'  and  the  roar  of  the 
rush  drowned  his  words  as  the  rear  companies 
thrust  forward  the  first,  still  singing  as  they 
swung  down  the  slope : 


186      THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 


"From  the  child  at  the  breast  to  the  hand  at  the  plow 
Has  rolled  to  the  ocean  like  Shannon  in  flood!" 


They  should  have  sung  it  in  the  face  of 
England,  not  of  the  Afghans,  whom  it  im- 
pressed as  much  as  did  the  wild  Irish  yell. 

*' They  came  down  singing,"  said  the  un- 
official report  of  the  enemy,  borne  from  village 
to  village  next  day.  *'They  continued  to  sing, 
and  it  was  written  that  our  men  could  not  abide 
when  they  came.  It  is  believed  that  there  was 
magic  in  the  aforesaid  song." 

Dan  and  Horse  Egan  kept  themselves  in  the 
neighborhoodof  Mulcahy.  Twicethe  man  would 
have  bolted  back  in  the  confusion.  Twice  he 
was  heaved  like  a  half-drowned  kitten  into  the 
unpaintale  inferno  of  a  hotly  contested  charge. 

At  the  end,  the  panic  excess  of  his  fear  drove 
him  into  madness  beyond  all  human  courage. 
His  eyes  staring  at  nothing,  his  mouth  open 
and  frothing,  and  breathing  as  one  in  a  cold 
bath,  he  went  forward  demented,  while  Dan 
toiled  after  him.  The  charge  was  checked  at 
a  high  mud  wall.  It  was  Mulcahy  that 
scrambled  up  tooth  and  nail  and  heaved  down 
among  the  bayonets  the  amazed  Afghan  who 
barred  his  way.  It  was  Mulcahy,  keeping  to 
the  straight  line  of  the  rabid  dog,  led  a 
collection  of  ardent  souls  at  a  newly  unmasked 
battery,  and  flung  himself  on  the  muzzle  of  a 
gun  as  his  companions  danced  among  the 
gunners.  It  was  Mulcahy  who  ran  wildly  on 
from  that  battery  into  the  open  plain  where 
the  enemy    were    retiring  in  sullen  groups. 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      187 

His  hands  were  empty,  he  had  lost  helmet  and 
belt  and  he  was  bleeding  from  a  wound  in  the 
neck  Dan  and  Horse  Egan,  pantmg  and 
distressed,  had  thrown  themselves  down  on  the 
grojLind  by  the  captured  guns,  when,  they 
noticed  Mulcahy's  flight.  ^  ^ 

•"Mad  "  said  Horse  Egan,  critically.  Mad 
with  fear!  He's  going  straight  to  his  death, 
an' shouting's  no  use." 

* '  Let  him  go.     Watch  now !     If  we  fire  we  11 

hit  him  maybe."  .    ^c  u     ^ 

The  last  of  a  hurrying  crowd  of  Afghans 
turned  at  the  noise  of  shod  feet  behind  him, 
and  shifted  his  knife  ready  to  hand.  This,  he 
saw,  was  no  time  to  take  prisoners.  Mulcahy 
ran  on,  sobbing,  and  the  straight-held  blade 
went  home  through  the  defenseless  breast,  and 
the  body  pitched  forward  almost  before  a  shot 
from  Dan's  rifle  brought  down  the  slayer  and 
still  further  hurried  the  Afghan  retreat.  The 
two   Irishmen    went   out   to    bring    in    their 

dead. 

*'He  was  given  the  point,  and  that  was  an 
easy  death,"  said  Horse  Egan,  viewing  the 
corpse.  * '  But  would  you  ha'  shot  him,  Danny, 
if  he  had  lived?"  ,   ^ 

"He  didn't  live,  so  there's  no  sayin  .  But  1 
doubt  I  wud  have,  bekase  of  the  fun  he  gave 
us— let  alone  the  beer.  Hike  up  his  legs. 
Horse,  and  we'll  bring  him  in.  Perhaps  tis 
better  this  way." 

They  bore  the  poor  limp  body  to  the  mass  ot 
the  regiment,  lolling  open-mouthed  on  their 
rifles;  and  there  w^s  a  general  snigger  when 


188      THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS. 

one  of  the  younger  subalterns  said:  *'That 
was  a  good  man!" 

"Phew!"  said  Horse  Egan  when  a  burial 
party  had  taken  over  the  burden.  "I'm  pow- 
erful  dhry,  and  this  reminds  me,  there'll  be  no 
more  beer  at  all." 

"Fwhy  not?"  said  Dan,  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye  as  he  stretched  himself  for  rest.  "Are 
we  not  conspirin'  all  we  can,  an'  while  we  con- 
spire are  we  not  entitled  to  free  dhrinks?  Sure 
his  ould  mother  in  New  York  would  not  let  her 
son's  comrades  perish  of  drouth — if  she  can 
be  reached  at  the  end  pf  a  letter." 

** You're  a  janius,"  said  Horse  Egan.  *'0* 
coorse  she  will  not.  I  wish  this  crool  war  was 
over,  an*  we'd  get  back  to  canteen.  Faith, 
the  commander-in-chief  ought  to  be  hanged  on 
his  own  little  sword-belt  for  makin'  us  work  on 
wather. " 

The  Mavericks  were  generally  of  Horse 
Egan's  opinion.  So  they  made  haste  to  get 
their  work  done  as  soon  as  possible,  and  their 
industry  was  rewarded  by  unexpected  peace. 
•*We  can  fight  the  sons  of  Adam,"  said  the 
tribesmen,  "but  we  can  not  fight  the  sons  of 
Eblis,  and  this  regiment  never  stays  still  in 
one  place.  Let  us  therefore  come  in. "  They 
came  in,  and  "this  regiment"  withdrew  to  con- 
spire under  the  leadership  of  Dan  Grady. 

Excellent  as  a  subordinate,  Dan  failed  alto- 
gether as  a  chief-command — possibly  because 
he  was  too  much  swayed  by  the  advice  of  the 
only  man  in  the  regiment  who  could  perpetrate 
more  than  one  kind  of  handwriting.     The  same 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS.      183 

mail  that  bore  to  Mulcahy's  mother  in  New 
York  a  letter  from  the  colonel,  telling  her  how 
valiantly  her  son  had  fought  for  the  queen, 
and  how  assuredly  he  would  have  been  recom- 
mended for  the  Victoria  Cross  had  he  survived, 
carried  a  communication  signed,  I  grieve  to 
say,  by  that  same  colonel  and  all  the  officers  of 
the  regiment,  explaining  their  willingness  to 
do  ''anything  which  is  contrary  to  the  regula- 
tions and  all  kinds  of  resolutions' '  if  only  a  little 
money  could  be  forwarded  to  cover  incidental 
expenses.  Daniel  Grady.  Esquire,  would  receive 
funds,  vice  Mulcahy,  who  **was  unwell  at 
this  present  time  of  writing. " 

Both  letters  were  forwarded  from  New  York 
to  Tehema  Street,  San  Francisco,  with  mar- 
ginal comments,  as  brief  as  they  were  bitter. 
The  Third  Three  read  and  looked  at  each  other. 
Then  tlie  Second  Conspirator — he  who 
believed  in  *'joining  hands  with  the  practical 
branches" — began  to  laugh,  and  on  recovering 
his  gravity,  said:  "Gentlemen,  I  consider  this 
will  be  a  lesson  to  us.  We're  left  again. 
Those  cursed  Irish  have  let  us  down.  I  knew 
they  would,  but" — here  he  laughed  afresh — 
"I'd  give  considerable  to  know  what  was  at  the 
back  of  it  all." 

His  curiosity  would  have  been  satisfied  had 
he  seen  Dan  Grady,  discredited  regimental 
conspirator,  trying  to  explain  to  his  thirsty 
comrades  in  India  the  non-arrival  of  funds 
from  New  York. 


THE  RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY. 


Imray  had  achieved  the  impossible.  With- 
out warning,  for  no  conceivable  motive,  in  his 
youth  and  at  the  threshold  of  his  career  he  had 
chosen  to  disappear  from  the  world — which  is 
to  say,  the  little  Indian  station  where  he  lived. 
Upon  a  day  he  was  alive,  well,  happy,  and  in 
great  evidence  at  his  club,  among  the  billiard- 
tables.  Upon  a  morning  he  was  not,  and  no 
manner  of  search  could  make  sure  where  he 
might  be.  He  had  stepped  out  of  his  place; 
he  had  not  appeared  at  his  office  at  the  proper 
time,  and  his  dog-cart  was  not  upon  the  public 
roads.  For  these  reasons  and  because  he  was 
hampering  in  a  microscopical  degree  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  Indian  Empire,  the  Indian 
Empire  paused  for  one  microscopical  moment 
to  make  inquiry  into  the  fate  of  Imray.  Ponds 
were  dragged,  wells  were  plumbed,  telegrams 
were  dispatched  down  the  lines  of  railways  and 
to  the  nearest  seaport  town — 1,200  miles  away 
— but  Imray  was  not  at  the  end  of  the  drag- 
ropes  nor  the  telegrams.  He  was  gone,  and 
his  place  knew  him  no  more.  Then  the  work 
of  the  great  Indian  Empire  swept  forward, 
because  it  could  not  be  delayed,  and  Imray, 
from  being  a  man,  became  a  mystery — such  a 
190 


THE'  RECRUDESCENCE   OF  IMRAY.      191 

thing  as  men  talk  over  at  their  tables  in  the 
club  for  a  month  and  the?n  forget  utterly.  His 
guns,  horses,  and  carts  were  sold  to  the  highest 
bidder.  His  superior  officer  wrote  an  absurd 
letter  to  his  mother,  sayia^^,Jiifit  Imray  had 
unaccountably  disappeared  and  his  bungalow 
stood  empity  on  the  road.         / 

After  three  or  four  months  of  the  scorching 
hot  weather  had  gone  by,  my  friend  Strickland, 
of  the  police  force,  saw  fit  to  rent  the  bunga- 
low from  the  native  landlord.  This  was  before 
he  was  engaged  to  Miss  Youghai — an  affair 
which  has  been  described  in  another  place — 
and  while  he  was  pursuing  his  investigations 
into  native  life.  His  own  life  was  sufficiently 
peculiar,  and  men  complained  of  his  manners 
and  customs.  There  was  always  food  in  his 
house,  but  there  were  no  regular  times  for 
meals.  He  eat,  standing  up  and  walking 
about,  whatever  he  might  find  on  the  side- 
board, and  this  is  not  good  for  the  insides  of 
human  beings.  His  domestic  equipment  was 
limited  to  six  rifles,  three  shot-guns,  five 
saddles,  and  a  collection  of  stiff-jointed 
masheer  rods,  bigger  and  stronger  than  the 
largest  salmon  rods.  These  things  occupied 
one  half  of  his  bungalow,  and  the  other  half 
was  given  up  to  Strickland  and  his  dog 
Tietjens — an  enormous  Rampour  slut,  who 
sung  when  she  was  ordered,  and  devoured 
daily  the  rations  of  two  men.  She  spoke  to 
Strickland  in  a  language  of  her  own,  and 
whenever  in  her  walks  abroad  she  saw  things 
calculated  to  destroy  the  peace  of  Her  Majesty 


192     THE  RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY. 

the  Queen  Empress,  she  returned  to  her 
master  and  gave  him  information.  Strickland 
would  take  steps  at  once,  and  the  end  of  his 
labors  was  trouble  and  fine  and  imprisonment 
for  other  people.  The  natives  believed  that 
Tietjens  was  a  familiar  spirit,  and  treated  her 
with  the  great  reverence  that  is  born  of  hate 
and  fear.  One  room  in  the  bungalow  was  set 
apart  for  her  special  use.  She  owned  a 
bedstead,  a  blanket,  and  a  drinking-trough, 
and  if  any  one  came  into  Strickland's  room  at 
night,  her  custom  was  to  knock  down  the 
invader  and  give  tongue  till  some  one  came 
with  a  light.  Strickland  owes  his  life  to  her 
when  he  was  on  the  frontier  in  search  cf  the 
local  murderer  who  came  in  the  gray  dawn  to 
send  Strickland  much  further  than  the  Anda- 
man Islands,  Tietjens  caught  him  as  he  was 
crawling  into  Strickland's  tent  with  a  dagger 
between  his  teeth,  and  after  his  record  of 
iniquity  was  established  in  the  eyes  of  the  law, 
he  was  hanged.  From  that  date  Tietjens  wore 
a  collar  of  rough  silver  and  employed  a  mono- 
gram on  her  night  blanket  and  the  blanket 
was  double- woven  Kashmir  cloth,  for  she  was 
a  delicate  dog. 

Under  no  circumstances  would  she  be  sepa- 
rated from  Strickland,  and  when  he  was  ill  with 
fever  she  made  great  trouble  for  the  doctors 
because  she  did  not  know  how  to  help  her 
master  and  would  not  allow  another  creature 
to  attempt  aid.  Macarnaght,  of  the  Indian 
Medical  Service,  beat  her  over  the  head  with  a 
gun,   before  she  could  understand  that  she 


THE  RECRUDESCENCE   OF  IMRAY.      193 

must    give   room   for   those    who  could   give 
quinine. 

A  short  time  after  Strickland  had  taken 
Imray's  bungalow,  my  business  took  ^  me 
through  that  station,  and  naturally,  the  club 
quarters  being  full,  I  quartered  myself  upon 
Strickland.  It  was  a  desirable  bungalow, 
eight-roomed,  and  heavily  thatched  against 
any  chance  of  leakage  from  rain.  13  nder  the 
pitch  of  the  roof  ran  a  ceiling  cloth,  which 
looked  just  as  nice  as  a  white-washed  ceiling. 
The  landlord  had  repainted  when  Strickland 
took  the  bungalow,  and  unless  you  knew  how 
Indian  bungalows  were  built  you  would  never 
have  suspected  that  above  the  cloth  lay  the 
dark,  three-cornered  cavarn  of  the  roof,  where 
the  beams  and  the  under  side  of  the  thatch 
harbored  all  manner  of  rats,  bats,  ants,  and 
other  things. 

Tietjens  met  me  in  the  veranda  with  a  bay 
like  the  boom  of  the  bells  of  St.  Paul's,  and 
put  her  paws  on  my  shoulders  and  said  she 
was  glad  to  see  me,  Strickland  had  contrived 
to  put  together  that  sort  of  meal  which  he 
called  lunch,  and  immediately  after  it  was  fin- 
ished  went  out  about  his  business.  I  was 
left  alone  with  Tietjens  and  my  own  affairs. 
The  heat  of  the  summer  had  broken  up  and 
given  place  to  the  warm  damp  of  the  rains. 
There  was  no  motion  in  the  heated  air,  but  the 
rain  fell  like  bayonet  rods  on  the  earth,  and 
flung  up  a  blue  mist  where  it  splashed  back 
again.  The  bamboos  and  the  custard  apples, 
the  poinsettias  the  mango-trees  in  the 
U  Ditties 


194      THE  RECRUDESCENCE   OF  IMRAY. 

garden  stood  still  while  the  warm  water  lashed 
through  them,  and  the  frogs  began  to  sing 
among  the  aloe  hedges.  A  little  before  the 
light  failed,  and  when  the  rain  was  at  its 
worst,  I  sat  on  the  back  veranda  and 
heard  the  water  roar  from  the  eaves,  and 
scratched  myself  because  I  was  covered  with 
the  thing  they  call  prickly  heat.  Tietjens 
came  out  with  me  and  put  her  head  in  my  lap, 
and  was  very  sorrowful,  so  I  gave  her  biscuits 
when  tea  was  ready,  and  I  took  tea  in  the  back 
veranda  on  account  of  the  little  coolness  I 
found  there.  The  rooms  of  the  house  were 
dark  behind  me.  I  could  smell  Strickland's 
saddlery  and  the  oil  on  his  guns,  and  I  did  not 
the  least  desire  to  sit  among  these  things.  My 
own  servant  came  to  me  in  the  twilight,  the 
muslin  of  his  clothes  clinging  tightly  to  his 
drenched  body,  and  told  me  that  a  gentleman 
had  called  and  wished  to  see  some  one.  Very 
much  against  my  will,  and  because  of  the  dark- 
ness of  the  rooms,  I  went  into  the  naked  draw- 
ing-room, telling  my  man  to  bring  the  lights. 
There  might  or  might  not  have  been  a  caller  in 
the  room — it  seems  to  me  that  I  saw  a  figure 
by  one  of  the  windows,  but  when  the  lights 
came  there  was  nothing  save  the  spikes  of  the 
rain  without  and  the  smell  of  the  drinking 
earth  in  my  nostrils.  I  explained  to  my  man 
that  he  was  no  wiser  than  he  ought  to  be,  and 
went  back  to  the  veranda  to  talk  to  Tietjens. 
She  had  gone  out  into  the  wet  and  I  could 
hardly  coax  her  back  to  me — even  with  biscuits 
with  sugar  on  top.      Strickland  rode    back. 


THE  RECRUDESCENCE   OF  lAIRAY.      195 

dripping  wet,  just  before  dinner,  and  the  first 
thing  he  said  was: 

*'Has  any  one  called?" 

I  explained,  with  apologies,  that  my  servant 
had  called  me  into  the  drawing-room  on  a  false 
alarm;  or  that  some  loafer  had  tried  to  call  on 
Strickland,  and,  thinking  better  of  it,  fled  after 
giving  his  name.  Strickland  ordered  dinner 
without  comment  and  since  it  was  a  real  din- 
ner, with  white  table-cloth  attached,  we  sat 
down. 

At  nine  o'clock  Strickland  wanted  to  go  to 
bed,  and  I  was  tired  too.  Tietjens,  who  had 
been  lying  underneath  the  table,  rose  up  and 
went  into  the  least-exposed  veranda  as  soon  as 
her  master  moved  to  his  own  room,  which  was 
next  to  the  stately  chamber  set  apart  for  Tiet- 
jens. If  a  mere  wife  had  wished  to  sleep  out- 
of-doors  in  that  pelting  rain,  it  would  not  have 
mattered,  but  Tietjens  was  a  dog,  and  there- 
fore the  better  animal.  I  looked  at  Strickland, 
expecting  to  see  him  flog  her  with  a  whip. 
He  smiled  queerly,  as  a  man  would  smile  after 
telling  some  hideous  domestic  tragedy.  *'She 
has  done  this  ever  since  I  moved  in  here." 

The  dog  was  Strickland's  dog,  so  I  said 
nothing,  but  I  felt  all  that  Strickland  felt  in 
being  made  light  of.  Tietjens  encamped  out- 
side my  bedroom  window,  and  storm  after 
storm  came  up,  thundered  on  the  thatch,  and 
died  away.  The  lightning  spattered  the  sky 
as  a  thrown  e^g  spatters  a  barn  door,  but  the 
light  was  pale  blue,  not  yellow ;  and  looking 
through  my  slit  bamboo  blinds,  I  could  see  the 


196     THE  RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY. 

great  dog  standing,  not  sleeping,  in  the  veran- 
da, the  hackles  alift  on  her  back,  and  her  feet 
planted  as  tensely  as  the  drawn  wire  rope  of  a 
suspension  bridge.  In  the  very  short  pauses 
of  the  thunder  I  tried  to  sleep,  but  it  seemed 
that  some  one  wanted  me  very  badly.  He, 
whoever  he  was,  was  trying  to  call  me  by 
name,  but  his  voice  was  no  more  than  a  husky 
whisper.  Then  the  thunder  ceased  and  Tiet- 
jens  went  into  the  garden  and  howled  at  the 
low  moon.  Somebody  tried  to  open  my  door, 
and  walked  about  and  through  the  house,  and 
stood  breathing  heavily  in  the  verandas,  and 
just  when  I  was  falling  asleep  I  fancied  that  I 
heard  a  wild  hammering  and  clamoring  above 
my  head  or  on  the  door. 

I  ran  into  Strickland's  room  and  asked  him 
whether  he  was  ill  and  had  been  calling  for  me. 
He  was  lying  on  the  bed  half-dressed,  with  a 
pipe  in  his  mouth.  *'I  thought  you'd  come," 
he  said.  *'Have  I  been  walking  around  the 
house  at  all?" 

I  explained  that  he  had  been  in  the  dining- 
room  and  the  smoking-room  and  two  or  three 
other  places;  and  he  laughed  and  told  me  to  go 
back  to  bed.  I  went  back  to  bed  and  slept  till 
the  morning,  but  in  all  my  dreams  I  was  sure 
I  was  doing  some  one  an  injustice  in  not  attend- 
ing to  his  wants.  What  those  wants  were  I 
could  not  tell,  but  a  fluttering,  whispering, 
bolt-fumbling,  luring,  loitering  some  one  was 
reproaching  me  for  my  slackness,  and  through 
all  the  dreams  I  heard  the  howling  of  Tietjens 
in  the  garden  and  the  thrashing  of  the  rain. 


THE  RECRUDESCENCE    OF  IMRAY.      197 

I  was  in  that  house  for  two  days,  and  Strick- 
land went  to  his  office  daily,  leaving  me  alone 
for  eight  or  ten  hours  a  day,  with  Tietjens  for 
my  only  companion.     As  long  as  the  full  light 
lasted  I  was  comfortable,  and  so  was  Tietjens; 
but  in  the  twilight  she  and  I  moved  into  the 
back  veranda  and  cuddled  each  other  for  com- 
pany. ^    We  were  alone  in  the  house,  but  for  all 
that   it  was  fully  occupied  by  a  tenant  with 
whom  I  had  no  desire  to  interfere.       I   never 
saw  him,  but  I  could  see  the  curtains  between 
the  rooms  quivering  where  he  had  just  passed 
through ;  I  could  hear  the  chairs  creaking  as 
the  bamboos  sprung  under  a  weight  that  had 
just  quitted  them;  and  I  could  feel  when   I 
went  to  get  a  book  from  the  dining-room  that 
somebody  was  waiting  in  the  shadows  of   the 
front   veranda  till   I  should  have  gone  away. 
Tietjens  made  the  twilight  more  interesting  by 
glaring  into  the   darkened  rooms,  with  every 
hair  erect,  and  following  the  motions  of  some- 
thing that  I  could  not  see.     She  never  entered 
the  rooms,  but  her  eyes  moved,  and  that  was 
quite  sufficient.     Only  when  my  servant  came 
to  trim  the  lamps  and  make  all  light  and  habit- 
able,  she  would  come  in  with  me  and  spend 
her  time  sitting  on  her  haunches  watching  an 
invisible  extra  man  as  he  moved  about  behind 
my  shoulder.     Dogs  are  cheerful  companions. 
I  explained  to  Strickland,   gently  as  might 
be,  that  I  would  go  over  to  the  club  and  find 
for  myself  quarters  there.      I  admired  his  hos- 
pitality, was  pleased  with   his  guns  and  rods, 
but  I  did  not  much  care  for  his  house  and  its 


198      THE   RECRUDESCENXE  OF  IMRAY. 

atmosphere.  He  heard  me  out  to  the  end, 
and  then  smiled  very  wearily,  but  without  con- 
tempt, for  he  is  a  man  who  understands  things. 
"Stay  on,"  he  said,  "and  see  what  this  thing 
means.  All  you  have  talked  about  I  have 
known  since  I  took  the  bungalow.  Stay  on 
and  wait.  Tietjens  has  left  me.  Are  you 
going  too?" 

I  had  seen  him  through  one  little  affair  con- 
nected with  an  idol  that  had  brought  me  to  the 
doors  of  a  lunatic  asylum,  and  I  had  no  desire 
to  help  him  through  further  experiences.  He 
was  a  man  to  whom  unpleasantnesses  arrived 
as  do  dinners  to  ordinary  people. 

Therefore  I  explained  more  clearly  than  ever 
that  I  liked  him  immensely,  and  would  be 
happy  to  see  him  in  the  daytime,  but  that  I 
didn't  care  to  sleep  under  his  roof.  This  was 
after  dinner,  when  Tietjens  had  gone  out  to 
lie  in  the  veranda. 

"  Ton  my  soul,  I  don't  wonder,"  said 
Strickland,  with  his  eves  on  the  ceiling-cloth. 
"Look  at  that!" 

The  tails  of  two  snakes  were  hanging 
between  the  cloth  and  the  cornice  of  the  wall. 
They  threw  long  shadows  in  the  lamp-light. 
**If  you  are  afraid  of  snakes,  of  course — "  said 
Strickland.  "I  hate  and  fear  snakes,  because 
if  you  look  into  the  eyes  of  any  snake  you  will 
see  that  it  knows  all  and  more  of  man's  fall, 
and  that  it  feels  all  the  contempt  that  the  devil 
felt  when  Adam  was  evicted  from  Eden. 
Besides  which  its  bite  is  generally  fatal,  and  it 
bursts  up  trouser  legs." 


THE  RECRUDESCENCE   OF  IMRAY.      1C9 

*'You  ought  to  get  your  thatch  overhauled," 
I  said.  "Give  me  a  masheer  rod,  and  we'll 
poke  'em  down." 

"They'll  hide  among  the  roof  beams,"  said 
Strickland.  "I  can't  stand  snakes  overhead. 
I'm  going  up.  If  I  shake  'em  down,  stand 
by  with  the  cleaning-rod  and  break  their 
backs." 

I  was  not  anxious  to  assist  Strickland  in  his 
work,  but  I  took  the  loading-rod  and  waited  in 
the  dining-room,  while  Strickland  brought  a 
gardener's  ladder  from  the  veranda  and  set  it 
against  the  side  of  the  room.  The  snake  tails 
drew  themselves  up  and  disappeared.  We 
could  hear  the  dry  rushing  scuttle  of  long 
bodies  running  over  the  baggy  cloth.  Strick- 
land took  a  lamp  with  him,  while  I  tried  to 
make  clear  the  danger  of  hunting  roof  snakes 
between  a  ceiling-cloth  and  a  thatch,  apart 
from  the  deterioration  of  property  caused  by 
ripping  out  ceiling-cloths. 

"Nonsense!"  said  Strickland,  "They're 
sure  to  hide  near  the  walls  by  the  cloth.  The 
bricks  are  too  cold  for  'em,  and  the  heat  of  the 
room  is  just  what  they  like. "  He  put  his  hand 
to  the  corner  of  the  cloth  and  ripped  the  rotten 
stuff  from  the  cornice.  It  gave  a  great  sound 
of  tearing,  and  Strickland  put  his  head  through 
the  opening  into  the  dark  of  the  angle  of  the 
roof  beams.  I  set  my  teeth  and  lifted  the 
loading-rod,  for  I  had  not  the  least  knowledge 
of  what  might  descend. 

"  H  'm, "  said  Strickland ;  and  his  voice  rolled 
&nd  rumbled  in   the  roof.     "There's  rpom  for 


200      THE  RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY. 

another  set  of  rooms  up  here,  and,  by  Jove! 
some  one  is  occupying  *em. " 

*' Snakes?"  I  said  down  below. 

*'No.     It's  a  buffalo.     Hand  me  up  the  two 
first  joints  of  a  masheer  rod,  and  I'll  prod  it. 
It's  lying  on  the  main  beam." 
I     I  handed  up  the  rod. 

*'What  a  nest  for  owls  and  serpents!  No 
wonder  the  snakes  live  here,"  said  Strickland, 
climbing  further  into  the  roof.  I  could  see 
his  elbow  thrusting  with  the  rod.  ''Come  out 
of  that,  whoever  you  are!  Lookout!  Heads 
below  there!     It's  tottering." 

I  saw  the  ceiling- cloth  nearly  in  the  center 
of  the  room  bag  with  a  shape  that  was  pressing 
it  downward  and  downward  toward  the  lighted 
lamps  on  the  table.  I  snatched  a  lamp  out  of 
danger  and  stood  back.  Then  the  cloth  ripped 
out  from  the  walls,  tore,  split,  swayed,  and 
shot  down  upon  the  table  something  that  I 
dared  not  look  at  till  Strickland  had  slid  down 
the  ladder  and  was  standing  by  my  side. 

He  did  not  say  much,  being  a  man  of  few 
words,  but  he  picked  up  the  loose  end  of  the 
table-cloth  and  threw  it  over  the  thing  on  the 
table. 

''It. strikes  me,"  said  he,  pulling  down  th<e 
lamp,  "our  friend  Imray  has  come  back.  Oh! 
you  would,  would  you?" 

There  was  a  movement  under  the  cloth,  and 
a  little  snake  wriggled  out,  to  be  back-broken 
by  the  butt  of  the  masheer  rod.  I  was  suffici- 
ently sick  to  make  no  remarks  worth  recording. 

Strickland  meditated  and  helped  himself  to 


THE   RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY.      201 

drinks  liberally.  The  thing  under  the  cloth 
made  no  more  signs  of  life. 

**Is  it  Imray?"  I  said. 

Strickland  turned  back  the  cloth  for  a 
moment  and  looked.  **It  is  Imray,"  he  said, 
**and  his  throat  is  cut  from  ear  to  ear. " 

Then  we  both  spoke  together  and  to  ourselves: 
"That's  why  he  whispered  about  the  house." 

Tietjens,  in  the  garden,  began  to  bay 
furiously.  A  little  later  her  great  nose  heaved 
upon  the  dining-room  door. 

She  sniffed  and  was  still.  The  broken  and 
tattered  ceiling-cloth  hung  down  almost  to  the 
level  of  the  table,  and  there  was  hardly  room 
to  move  away  from  the  discovery. 

Then  Tietjens  came  in  and  sat  down,  her 
teeth  bared  and  her  forepaws  planted.  She 
looked  at  Strickland. 

''It's  bad  business,  old  lady,"  said  he. 
*'Men  don't  go  up  into  the  roofs  of  their  bunga- 
lows to  die,  and  they  don't  fasten  up  the  ceil- 
ing-cloth behind  *em.     Let's  think  it  out." 

*'Let's  think  it  out  somewhere  else,"  I  said. 

''Excellent  idea!  Turn  the  lamps  out.  We'll 
get  into  my  room. " 

I  did  not  turn  the  lamps  out.  I  went  into 
Strickland's  room  first  and  allowed  him  to 
make  the  darkness.  Then  he  followed  me, 
and  we  lighted  tobacco  and  thought.  Strick- 
land did  the  thinking.  I  smoked  furiously 
because  I  was  afraid. 

"Imray  is  back,"  said  Strickland.  "The 
question  is,  who  killed  Imray?  Don't  talk — I 
have  a  notion  of  my  own.     When  I  took  this 

14  ^ 


202      THE   RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY. 

bungalow  I  took  most  of  Imray's  servants. 
Imray  was  guileless  and  inoffensive,  wasn't 
he?" 

I  agreed,  though  the  heap  under  the  cloth 
looked  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other. 

*'If  I  call  the  servants  they  will  stand  fast  in 
a  crowd  and  lie  like  Aryans.  What  do  you  sug- 
gest?" 

"Call  *em  in  one  by  one,"  I  said. 

*' They'll  run  away  and  give  the  news  to  all 
their  fellows,"  said  Strickland. 

*'We  must  segregate  'em.  Do  you  suppose 
your  servant  knows  anything  about  it?" 

*'He  may,  for  aught  I  know,  but  I  don't 
think  it's  likely.  He  has  only  been  here  two 
or  three  days." 

"What's  your  notion?"  I  asked. 

*'I  can't  quite  tell.  How  the  dickens  did  the 
man  get  the  wrong  side  of   the  ceiling-cloth?" 

There  was  a  heavy  coughing  outside  Strick- 
land's bedroom  door.  This  showed  that 
Bahadur  Khan,  his  body-servant,  had  waked 
from  sleep  and  wished  to  put  Strickland  to 
bed. 

*' Come  in,"  said  Strickland.  *' It  is  a  very 
warm  night,  isn't  it?" 

Bahadur  Khan,  a  great,  green-turbaned,  six- 
foot  Mohammedan,  said  that  it  was  a  very 
warm  night,  but  that  there  was  more  rain 
pending,  which,  by  his  honor's  favor,  would 
bring  relief  to  the  country. 

*'It  will  be  so,  if  God  pleases,"  said  Strick- 
land, tugging  off  his  boots.  * '  It  is  in  my  mind, 
Bahadur    Khan^    that    I    have    worked    thcQ 


THE  RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY.      203 

remorselessly  for  many  days — ever  since  that 
time  when  thou  first  earnest  into  my  service. 
What  time  was  that?" 

*'Has  the  heaven-born  forgotten?  It  was 
when  Imray  Sahib  went  secretly*  to  Europe 
without  warning  given,  and  I — even  I — came 
into  the  honored  service  of  the  protector  of  the 
poor." 

**And  Imray  Sahib  went  to  Europe?" 

**It  is  so  said  among  the  servants." 

*'And  thou  wilt  take  service  with  him  when 
he  returns?" 

"Assuredly,  sahib.  He  was  a  good  master 
and  cherished  his  dependents." 

"That  is  true.  I  am  very  tired,  but  I  can 
go  buck-shooting  to-morrow.  Give  me  the 
little  rifle  that  I  used  for  black  buck;  it  is  in 
the  case  yonder." 

The  man  stooped  over  the  case,  handed 
barrels,  stock,  and  fore-end  to  Strickland,  who 
fitted  them  together.  Yawning  dolefully,  then 
he  reached  down  to  the  gun-case,  took  a  solid 
drawn  cartridge,  and  slipped  it  into  the  breech 
of  the  .360  express. 

"And  Imray  Sahib  has  gone  to  Europe 
secretly?  That  is  very  strange,  Bahadur  Khan, 
is  it  not?" 

"What  do  I  know  of  the  ways  of  the  white 
man,  heaven-born?" 

"Very  little,  truly.  But  thou  shalt  know 
more.  It  has  reached  me  that  Imray  Sahib 
has  returned  from  his  so  long  journeyings,  and 
that  even  now  he  lies  in  the  next  room,  waiting 
his  servant." 


204     THE  RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY. 

**Sahib!" 

The  lamp-light  slid  along  the  barrels  of  the 
rifle  as  they  leveled  themselves  against 
Bahadur  Khan's  broad  breast. 

"Go,  then,  and  look!"  said  Strickland. 
**Take  a  lamp.  Thy  master  is  tired,  and  he 
waits.     Go!" 

The  man  picked  up  a  lamp  and  went  into 
the  dining-room,  Strickland  following,  and 
almost  pushing  him  with  the  muzzle  of  the 
rifle.  He  looked  for  a  moment  at  the  black 
depths  behind  the  ceiling-cloth,  at  the  carcass 
of  the  mangled  snake  under  foot,  and  last,  a 
gray  glaze  setting  on  his  face,  at  the  thing 
under  the  table-cloth. 

"Hast  thou  seen?"  said  Strickland,  after  a 
pause. 

"I  have  seen.  I  am  clay  in  the  white  man's 
hands.     What  does  the  presence  do?" 

"Hang  thee  within  a  month!     What  else?" 

"For  killing  him?  Nay,  sahib,  consider. 
Walking  among  us,  his  servants,  he  cast  his 
eyes  upon  my  child,  who  was  four  years  old. 
Him  he  bewitched,  and  in  ten  days  he  died  of 
the  fever.     My  child!" 

"What  said  Imray  Sahib?" 

"He  said  he  was  a  handsome  child,  and 
patted  him  on  the  head ;  wherefore  my  child 
died.  Wherefore  I  killed  Imray  Sahib  in  the 
twilight,  when  he  came  back  from  office  and 
was  sleeping.  The  heaven-born  knows  all 
things.  I  am  the  servant  of  the  heaven- 
born." 

Strickland  looked  at  me  above  the  rifle,  and 


THE  RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY.     205 

said,  in  the  vernacular:  "Thou  art  witness  to 
this  saying.     He  has  killed. " 

Bahadur  Khan  stood  ashen  gray  in  the  light 
of  the  one  lamp.  The  need  for  justification 
came  upon  him  very  swiftly. 

*'I  am  trapped,"  he  said,  **but  the  offense 
was  that  man's.  He  cast  an  evil  eye  upon  my 
child,  and  I  killed  and  hid  him.  Only  such  as 
are  served  by  devils,"  he  glared  at  Tietjens, 
crouched  stolidly  before  him,  **only  such 
could  know  what  I  did." 

"It  was  clever.  But  thou  shouldst  have 
lashed  him  to  the  beam  with  a  rope.  Now, 
thou  thyself  wilt  hang   by  a  rope.     Orderly!" 

A  drowsy  policeman  answered  Strickland's 
call.  He  was  followed  by  another,  and  Tiet- 
jens sat  still. 

"Take  him  to  the  station,"  said  Strickland. 
"There  is  a  case  toward." 

"Do  I  hangf,  then?"  said  Bahadur  Khan, 
making  no  attempt  to  escape  and  keeping  his 
eyes  on  the  ground. 

"If  the  sun  shines,  or  the  water  runs,  thou 
wilt  hang,"  said  Strickland.  Bahadur  Khan 
stepped  back  one  pace,  quivered,  and  stood 
still.  The  two  policemen  waited  further  orders. 

"Go!"  said  Strickland. 

"Nay;  but  I  go  very  swiftly,"  said  Bahadur 
Khan.     "Look!    I  am  even  now  dead  a  man." 

He  lifted  his  foot,  and  to  the  little  toe  there 
clung  the  head  of  the  half-killed  snake,  firm 
fixed  in  the  agony  of  death. 

"I  come  of  land-holding  stock,"  said  Baha- 
dur Khan,  rocking  where  he  stood.     "It  were 


206     THE  RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY. 

a  disgrace  for  me  to  go  to  the  public  scaffold, 
therefore  I  take  this  way.  Be  it  remembered 
that  the  sahib's  shirts  are  correctly  enumerated, 
and  that  there  is  an  extra  piece  of  soap  in  his 
wash-basin.  My  child  was  bewitched,  and  I 
slew  the  wizard.  Why  should  you  seek  to  slay 
me?     My  honor  is  saved,  and — and — I  die." 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  he  died  as  they  die 
who  are  bitten  by  the  little  kariat,  and  the 
policemen  bore  him  and  the  thing  under  the 
table-cloth  to  their  appointed  places.  They 
were  needed  to  make  clear  the  disappearance 
of  Imray. 

*'This,"  said  Strickland,  very  calmly,  as  he 
climbed  into  bed,  "is  called  the  nineteenth 
century.     Did  you  hear  what  that  man  said?" 

"I  heard,"  I  answered.  "Imray  made  a 
mistake." 

"Simply  and  solely  through  not  knowing  the 
nature  and  coincidence  of  a  little  seasonal  fever. 
Bahadnr  Khan  has  been  with  him  for  four 
years."' 

I  shuddered.  My  own  servant  had  been 
with  me  for  exactly  that  length  of  time. 
When  I  went  over  to  my  own  room  I  found  him 
waiting,  impassive  as  the  copper  head  on  a 
penny,  to  pull  off  my  boots, 

"What  has  befallen  Bahadur  Khan?"  said  I. 

"He  was  bitten  by  a  snake  and  died;  the 
rest  the  sahib  knows,"  was  the  answer. 

"And  how  much  of  the  matter  hast  thou 
known?" 

"As  much  as  might  be  gathered  from  one 
coming  in  the  twilight  to  seek    satisfaction. 


THE   RECRUDESCENCE  OF  IMRAY.      20t  ; 

Gently,    sahib.       Let     me      pull     off    those  ^ 

boots."  ! 

I  had  just  settled  to  the   sleep  of  exhaustion  : 
when  I  heard  Strickland  shouting  from  his  side 
of  the  house: 

*'Tietjens  has  come  back  to  her  room!"  ' 

And  so  she  had.     The  great  deerhound  was  ; 

couched  on  her    own   bedstead,    on  her  own  ] 

blanket,  and  in  the  next  room  the  idle,  empty  i 

ceiling-cloth     wagged     light-heartedly    as    it  j 

flailed  on  the  table.  ' 


THE   END. 


D.  H.  HILL  LIBRARY 


■li^vil 


;'i:''l'|.'v'!'iii 


